Court of Thorns and Roses
by WhiteRoseQueen
Summary: Enter Grace Neville, a descendant of the Plantagenets and niece to Sir Thomas More who not only proves to be an ally to Anne Boleyn, but carves a future for herself that will change the fate of England forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello everyone! As a History major and Tudor geek, I am so happy to start my first Tudor story! This story will be focused on Grace Neville, the niece of Sir Thomas More and a descendent of the Plantagenets. Please review!**

 **Important notes:**

 **Thomas More born 7 February 1478**

 **Henry VIII born June 28, 1491**

 **Anne Boleyn born 1501 or 1507 (?)**

 **Henry and Katherine of Aragorn marry June 11, 1509**

 **Prince Henry Tudor born January 1, 1511, dies February 28, 1511**

 **Grace Neville born March 30, 1514 (OC)**

 **Princess Mary Tudor born February 18, 1516**

 _ **Utopia**_ **published 1516**

 **King Henry VIII begins to take an interest in Anne Boleyn 1525**

 **The Kings Great Matter begins 1528**

 **Sir Thomas More Chancellor of England 1529-1532**

 **Henry and Anne marry; Henry divorces Katherine 1533**

 **Princess Elizabeth is born September 7, 1533**

 **Sir Thomas More arrested April 1534**

* * *

 **Ch. 1**

" **Pride thinks its own happiness shines the brighter by comparing it with the misfortunes of others."  
~ ****Thomas More** **,** **Utopia**

* * *

 _ **Tower of London, October 1529**_

King Henry and Sir Thomas Moore walked side by side in the gardens at Windsor Palace, seemingly engaged in a talk between two friends. However, Thomas was rather self-conscious, eyeing the king suspiciously as if his summons were more important than they seemed. Cardinal Wolsey's fall from grace was evident and his power was rapidly decreasing. He had been stripped of his titles from the king as well as many of his properties. He had now returned to York to focus on his duties as an archbishop, though Thomas feared his end was near. Thomas also feared that whatever Henry had summoned him for, he would not agree.

"Wolsey pleaded guilty to all the charges made against him," Henry announced, more pleased then upset that his lifelong friend was now the object of his anger.

"Yes, I heard," Thomas replied, "And sentenced to prison," he added. He did not agree with Henry's judgment whatsoever, a grim look appearing on his face.

"I have rescinded his punishment. I've even agreed to let him keep the Bishopric of York. With a pension of 3000 angels." Henry chuckled at his joke while Thomas only nodded. "You see what kind of monster I am?" He placed his hand on Thomas's shoulder, teasing his friend. A thin line was plastered on Thomas's mouth, replacing his usual cheery disposition and smile. Henry continued, "I need to appoint a new chancellor. Someone I can trust." Thomas's face took on an unhealthy shade of white as Henry revealed the reason for his summons. He looked away in exasperation. "You're trained as a lawyer and in royal service. You have international prestige. The friend of Erasmus, the greatest humanist in all England." Thomas continued to appear uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going in. He fiddled with his hat, his hands shaking nervously. He wanted, no needed to say no. "You have a fine, sharp mind." Henry proceeded to compliment his friend, sure of himself that Thomas would accept.

"No," Thomas responded, loud and clear, beginning to walk away from his friend. He did not want the position, knowing it was a dangerous job after what happened to Cardinal Wolsey. He was putting himself and his family at risk if he accepted.

"No what?" Henry questioned, irritated with his friend's response. He didn't understand why Thomas was acting so unlike himself. Here he was, the King of England, asking one of his closest friends to accept the highest position in government, Chancellor of England.

"No, I don't want to be Chancellor," Thomas revealed, now with an explanation for his "no." He turned to face Henry.

"You will do as I command!" Henry's words were authoritative and filled with force, but seeing the distressed look on Thomas's face, he stopped and let out another chuckle. He began to try and persuade Thomas to accept, knowing that matters of state had upset Thomas as of late. "Listen, Thomas. I know you have scruples concerning my divorce. And I swear to you, it will only be dealt with by those whose consciences agree with it. I'll only use you for other things and I will never let it molest your conscience." Thomas still looked uncomfortable, his face turning away from Henry to the ground and back again nervously. "Look, Tom," Henry continued, grabbing his friend pleadingly and urging him to walk with him again. "I want you, nay, I command you, in all the things that you do to look to God first, and only then to me." Henry held his hand out to Thomas, waiting for a handshake. Thomas's mind scrambled for a moment, not knowing what else he could say. He did not want to accept, but seeing hope in the matter and how he might be able to help his friend, he shook Henry's hand, sealing the deal. Sir Thomas More was now Chancellor of England.

* * *

 _ **Warwick Castle, November 1529**_

"Uncle Thomas! Uncle Thomas!" Fifteen-year old Grace Neville had seen her Uncle Thomas More coming up the drive to their manor in Warwickshire, a surprise visit for she had not expected to see her uncle until Christmastide. She hurried from her chambers and into the hall, her governess running behind her, scolding her for her unladylike behavior. Reaching the stairs, she charged down them two at a time and ran into the opening of the manor, meeting her uncle as he arrived in the courtyard.

Thomas More dismounted from his horse, smiling as he saw his niece running towards him. He caught her in an embrace, swinging her around before placing back on her feet. 'Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he spoke, lifting her chin up with his hand so he could view her features better. "You look just like your mother, bless her soul." Grace blushed at the compliment, knowing her mother would be pleased that a part of her remained in the world after her death a year ago.

Grace's mother, Anne More, was the sister of Sir Thomas More and married to Richard Neville, son of Constance Say, daughter of Elizabeth Cheney and Sir John Say, and George Neville. George Neville was the son of Katherine Beauchamp, sister of Anne Beauchamp, and Edward Neville, brother to Richard Neville whom was the Earl of Warwick. Through her marriage, Anne had risen through society as the daughter of a lawyer to the wife of a courtier, a descendent of Plantagenets. With the death of his distant cousin in 1499, Richard became the Duke of Warwick, Henry VII having decided that his lineage was no longer a threat to the throne. Besides, Richard held a disability, losing sight in one eye during a hunting accident in his youth and he lived a life of seclusion that did not involve politics unless the king summoned him to court. He was quite similar to Arthur Plantagenet, the illegitimate son of Edward IV, whose life had been spared because of his allegiance to the English Crown.

"What are you doing here Uncle?" Grace questioned, noticing her uncle's demeanor changing immediately. His smiling face turned to that seriousness. "Uncle?" she asked again, worried at his behavior.

"No reason to worry my darling. I just need to speak with your father about some court news. No need to mind your pretty head."

"Will you come and read _Utopia_ to me afterwards?" Thomas chuckled at his niece's request.

"Of course. Now off you go. Your governess seems quite displeased with you." Turning her around, Grace grimaced at her governance's facial expression and hands on hips, clearly upset with her for running off. Thomas gave a little push, forcing her to be returned to the woman. A scolding began and Thomas chuckled as Grace was led away and back to her lessons.

Richard Neville soon appeared in the doorway, an understanding look in his eye as he took in his brother-in-law's countenance. "This is why I don't dwell in court life often, nor my children. I prefer to stay in the country for a reason Thomas. I'm sure you know why." He stepped forward, embracing Thomas in a brotherly manner. "Come. Let us go to my study."

* * *

 _ **Windsor Castle, September 1530**_

The English Court was in full swing, many diplomats arriving from foreign countries to meet with the King of England. Many of the courtiers were gathered in the main hall, the women gossiping amongst themselves and the men discussing politics and war. Queen Katherine's ladies were among them as well as the Ambassador from the Holy Roman Empire, Eustace Chapuys.

As Anne Boleyn and her ladies entered the corridor, it became deadly silent, all eyes upon the King of England's mistress. Chapuys and Anne's brother, George Boleyn, stood in the corner of the hall, chatting when Anne entered. All courtiers bowed to Anne, rather by force than in respect, fearing the King's wrath.

"What is it? What has she done?" Chapuys questioned, wondering why such a scene was evolving in front of them.

"She is wearing purple. And purple is the color of royalty," George responds, his tone serious.

Anne halts in front of Katherine of Aragon's ladies, her purple wardrobe and purple jewels glinting in the sun that shone through the paned window. She sent them a superior look that commanded attention. "You know, I sometimes wish that all Spaniards were at the bottom of the sea."

"Mistress Boleyn," the head lady-in-waiting says with loathing, "you should not abuse the queen's honor with such language." The word "honor" was emphasized, hinting that the lady believed Anne to have had sexual contact with the king, henceforth, the queen was more honorable as the wife of the king.

"I care nothing for Katherine. I would rather see her hanged than acknowledge her as my mistress," Anne exclaims with an edge of contempt. An outrage begins at her vulgar language and she begins to exit through the archway, but not before Sir Thomas More, now Chancellor, and Richard Neville of Warwick appear.

Richard gazes at Anne with a look of warning in his eye. He neither cares for nor dislikes the Howard/Boleyn faction at court, choosing to stay out of politics and only coming to court when the king commanded it. "I would be careful of what you say Mistress Boleyn, for if you disrespect the Queen's honor, you are also disrespecting the King. And since such a man holds you in high esteem, I would hope the lady he chooses to spend his time with would not disgrace that honor so freely."

Anne halts again, a puzzled and slightly irritated look on her face as she tries to figure out the man's identity and why he inserted himself into a private conversation. She looks to the Chancellor for an answer, eyeing More with contempt as she dislikes the man working closest to her king. "Mistress Anne," says Thomas as he inserts himself between the two, "may I introduce you to Richard Neville, the Duke of Warwick." Anne's eyes shine with recognition and she holds back the scolding that was on the edge of her tongue. She was in the presence of a man of nobility, a man of royal descent, and her father nor uncle would be pleased if she spoke so boldly to the man. Besides, she had known his daughter, Grace, at the French court when she had been there briefly during the Field of Cloth of gold in 1520 and when she had returned with her father in 1524 when their family was touring Europe. Anne had liked the girl, astonished by her intelligence and eloquence at ten years old.

"Your grace," she says with respect, herself as well as her ladies dipping into a curtsy. Richard merely nods at the woman, neither responding nor wishing to talk. The two men pass by Anne, ending the conversation abruptly, showing the Duke of Warwick's nonchalant attitude to the woman the king held most dear. Anne glares at their backs, but makes no move to stop them. Instead she watches as the courtiers begin gossiping, looking at her with looks of shock on their faces. Not letting herself be present for such humiliation, she quickly storms off. It didn't matter though. The damage had been done. Someone had put the king's mistress in her place.

* * *

 _ **Hampton Court, February 1531**_

Praying. That's all anyone seemed to be doing now that the King's Matter had been prolonged for, so long. Katherine of Aragon's position was sinking while Anne Boleyn's star was rising. The church was now prey to the king of England and Thomas More would do anything in his power to protect the rightful Queen of England.

Sir Thomas More enters the grand hall from a side door, his chancellor chain chiming as he walks. Courtiers all speak to him with reverence and bow. "Your grace," they say repeatedly. From their midst appears Ambassador Eustace Chapuys.

"Sir Thomas." Chapuys spots the chancellor immediately, his face lighting up in a friendly manner upon spotting the man. His master liked Thomas More and knew he was in favor of Katherine of Aragon.

"Ambassador Chapuys," More says in a teasing tone, "I thought you had abandoned us." He is more than pleased to see the Emperor's man at court.

Chapuys chuckles. "It's true. I did. Or tried to." His happy voice takes a sad tone now as he reflects on all the Queen's struggles. "In all conscience, I could never abandon Her Majesty. She is the most gracious and wonderful woman in the world." One can tell that he is most loyal to and admires the Queen, just as much as More. "And the saddest," he finishes.

"I agree with you," More says solemnly.

"So does the emperor." More's face turns downward at Chapuys declaration, his eyes wary as he looks around at the court whole Chapuys pulls a letter from his jacket. "He has written this letter of encouragement and support for your efforts on her behalf." Thomas drags Chapuys to a secluded archway, making sure no one is eavesdropping.

"I beg you not to deliver it to me," More reveals, "Although I have given sufficient proof of my loyalty to the king I must do nothing to provoke suspicion." His voice turns to a whisper at the end of his statement. "Considering the times we live in, I don't want to be deprived of the liberty which allows me to speak boldly in private about those matters which concern your master and the queen," he concludes, hoping the ambassador will understand his predicament. He was caught between his conscience and loyalty to the king.

"I understand. You need say no more." Chapuys nods his head in agreement.

* * *

Meanwhile, King Henry and Sir Thomas Cromwell reside in the king's private chambers going over documents of state. Henry finishes signing a document and Cromwell closes the binding it is within.

"Thank you, Mr. Cromwell," Henry says, thankful he was finally finished with state documents for now. This type of work bored him to no end. He'd rather be with his mistress.

"Your Majesty," Cromwell responds, bowing as well.

"Sir Thomas More," a page announces, alerting the two men of the chancellor's arrival.

"Cromwell." More acknowledges Cromwell's presence, but walks by him dismissively.

"Sir Thomas." Cromwell again bows to another man of power, noticing the dislike More has for him. It didn't matter as Cromwell saw the man as a rival for power. He leaves the room with the page, leaving the two great men of power alone.

"Sir Thomas."

"Your Majesty."

Business is addressed immediately, Henry seeking advice from not only his chancellor, but one of his closest confidants. "I must tell you, I have received a petition from the members of the House of Commons., complaining of the cruel behavior and abuses of the prelates and the clergy." Thomas stands silently, taking Henry's words in slowly. His face is blank, betraying no emotion for his answer will show how he feels about this accusation. Henry walks around the table to lean against it nonchalantly. "Thomas, people are asking for freedom from clerical rule."

Thomas responds clearly and strongly, "Your Majesty knows very well that I have always condemned the abuses of the clergy when they have been brought to light. As your chancellor, I have worked hard to eliminate them and purify our Holy Church." His vice falters at the end of his words.

"But?" Henry questions.

"You know where I stand. You've always known." Thomas speaks freely, Henry sighing at the same answer he always gives when it concerns church matters. "I cannot condone this newfangled vision of private belief and personal grace. For me, the Church is the permanent and living sign of God's presence. It is a visible, palpable community. Not just a few brethren gathered in secret rooms." Thomas' voice is pleading and passionate, almost desperate as he urges the king to listen to reason. He heads to leave, but Henry's words halt him.

"Then you will speak against me?" Henry's voice is laced with a hint of anger.

Thomas turns to address his king. "My loyalty and love for Your Majesty is so great that I will never say a word against you in public. So help me God." He leaves, leaving Henry to contemplate his greatest friend's wise words.

* * *

 ** _Middleham_** _ **Castle**_

"This is an outrage, Richard. The king had made himself head of the church, but only by a default vote. Fisher is against it, as I am, but I will not speak out against his majesty publicly." More paces angrily in his brother-in-law's study, having taken the time to remove himself from court and relax for a time at Middleham Castle in North Yorkshire. His face is red and creases in his forehead show his anger at the king's disrespect towards the Pope and God himself.

"The king will do as he pleases, Thomas," Richard replies. He sits before the fireplace, his hunting dogs at his feet. Unlike More, he remains calm and contained, though his eyes hold a glint of wariness in them. "We must continue to pray that God will watch over him and lead him down a different path."

Thomas nods at Richard's words, halting his pacing and running a hand over his tired face. "Is Grace still with the Princess Mary?" he questions. Grace had been recommended by her uncle to be a companion to the Princess Mary while she resided in Ludlow Castle, separated from her mother for the last few years.

"They have become great friends and Grace treats her as a sister. In these dark times I fear they may be separated if the king's mistress succeeds in becoming queen," Richard replies, his tone turning dark. "I fear her majesty is losing hope. We must continue to pray for the king's return to her," he continues, "for if not, her life and her daughter's will be hell."

"I pray it will not come to that, Richard. I do everything in my power to aide such a gracious lady and I hope by efforts are not in vain." Thomas finally sits next to his brother-in-law, finishing his frantic pacing. The men sit side by side, staring into the fire as they thought of what might come to pass.

* * *

 _ **Bishopric of Rochester**_

Within the kitchens of Bishop Fisher's manor, a cook stands alone as the fire burns brightly in the room. Its quite warm and the man wipes his arm across his forehead to remove away the perspiration. Looking around, he checks one more time to make sure no one is around before pulling a vial of poison from his shirt. He pours it into the contents of the cauldron he stands in front of, stirring it thoroughly.

A servant boy enters the dining room, holding a silver vessel filled with hot soup. He balances it carefully and places it gently on a side table as the Bishop and his guests, mainly clerics, converse.

"I wanted to thank Your Grace for your speech to convocation. It was well said and very brave," Thomas More speaks genuinely, admiration in his voice for the man who stood up to the king during the meeting concerning the king as the Head of the Church of England.

"I spoke only truth," Bishop Fisher replies. His voice is filled with disbelieve as he speaks of the king. "I believe that the caveat so far as the law of Christ allows does indeed invalidate the whole bill. How can the law of Christ permit a layman, even a king to be head of the Church?" Straying from his conversation, he notices the soup has arrived. "Boy, a little for me." He then begins to recite the prayer of God before him and his guests eat. "Amen" everyone responds in turn before eating their supper.

"I must ask you, Sir Thomas if you still have a mind to resign your office?" Fisher questions. Only More does not eat soup, instead choosing to sip from his wine chalice.

"After the vote, Your Grace, I must confess I was sorely tempted. But, on reflection I am content to stay and fight for Christendom." More's voice if filled with determination as he speaks. He knew in his heart that he would fight until the end for the sake of Queen Katherine and Princess Mary as well as for God.

"Oh, this is excellent news." Fisher is quite pleased with More's words. "As, indeed, is the turning again of the archbishop. I thank God that his conscience has finally driven him to condemn the king's nullity suit. And he has stated his intention to oppose any legislation which might be injurious to the Church." His words are cut off y the sound of choking. The clerics around them clutch their throats desperately as they try to breath. Sir Thomas looks mortified at the scene in front of him. Fisher begins to choke while a cleric collapses to the ground and stops breathing. Fisher soon crashes to the ground from his chair as well, blood pouring from his nose. Thomas rushes over to aid his friend,

"Get a doctor. Fetch a doctor, quick," he yells to the servant boys.

"Help, please help." The boys rush out of the room to find aid.

"God. God," Thomas repeats over and over, horrified at what he is seeing. Only an act of the devil could do such harm. All the clerics are dead around him, except Fisher who barely breathes from his position.

* * *

 _ **Hampton Court**_

Sir Thomas stands in the king's presence chamber, relaying the events of what had happened at Bishop Fisher's dinner party. He is tense, his face filled with distress as he narrates his eye witness account. "Four men died of their pains. Bishop Fisher survived only because he ate so little of the soup."

"It's very unfortunate, Sir Thomas," the king responds as he pays more attention to the papers on his desk then his chancellor's words. He barely looks up from his work and Thomas looks at him in disbelieve. His king does not seem to care at all.

"It's more than unfortunate, Your Majesty. Fisher's cook has been arrested. But I must tell you that…" More stutters for a moment, "that rumors abound as to the identity of those who plotted against him." Henry's face looks frustrated as he continues to sign papers.

Henry turns around in his chair, a dangerous look on his face. "Who?" he questions forcefully.

More is reluctant to answer. His eyes turn to the ceiling in frustration. "Wiltshire has been named."

"Boleyn?" Henry eyes are deadly.

"Yes. And Well, some people even blame the Lady Anne." More regrets saying the words as soon as they leave his lips.

Henry explodes as his anger is released from its bottle inside. He slams his hands down on the desk he works at and rises from his position to begin pacing around the room. "Some people will blame her for everything! They will blame her if it rains or if the rains fail. They'll blame her for the barrenness of the queen and for the fact that I love her. They'll blame her for the wind that destroys our crops and the storms that sink our ships. It's all the fault of the Lady Anne." Thomas stands there, listening as his king lets out his rage. He says nothing, but stands in silence. Henry sighs in annoyance before turning towards his friend. "What about you, Sir Thomas? Do you blame her? Do you think she tried to poison Bishop Fisher?"

"Harry, I…." Thomas begins, but is interrupted by Henry's loud and enraged voice.

"The time for Harry is over." Henry is tired, exhausted with all the accusations made at Lady Anne.

"Whoever was to blame the cook, Roose, tried blatantly and almost successfully to poison one of your Majesty's great public servants, a Bishop of our Holy Church, as well as me. If your Majesty were to turn a blind eye to the offence, everyone would be forced to assume that the attempted murders were done with your blessing." Thomas hopes his words will sink it, hopes Henry will see reason and consider what has been said rather then let his pride rule him. The king merely rubs his hand across his face, exasperated. He turns to the window, staring at the light that filters through the glass. His kingdom is in turmoil and he needed to find a solution, quickly, or else his people would turn against him because of Anne Boleyn.

* * *

 _ **Windsor Palace, July 1531**_

Anne Boleyn walks through the halls of Greenwich Palace, her ladies following diligently behind. They wore the livery of the queens of England, a crown on the design of their dresses. Anne wears a dress of blue satin, a golden cross around her neck, though many believed she was anything, but a pious lady. Many courtiers bow and curtsy as she passes. "Lady Anne," one lady responds. Another says, "My lady."

Turning into a hallway, she spots a page handling a pile of linen in his hands. Puzzled, she stops the man. "You," she orders. "Hold a moment. Where are you taking this linen?" she questions.

"To the Queen's Majesty." The page does not hesitate with his answer, but replies as if the answer is obvious.

"Why?" Anne questions skeptically.

"To make shirts for His Majesty. She always has done."

"She still makes his shirts?" An edge of hurt is evident in Anne's voice. They aren't just shirts to her, but a symbol of Katherine and Henry's marriage and the threat Katherine still poses.

"Yes, Mistress Anne." The word mistress is emphasized by the page, making Anne's blood boil. She makes a hand gesture at him to continue his duties, herself turning on her heel and heading to the king's chamber to discuss the matter of the king's shirts.

* * *

King Henry sits in private chambers holding a rosary in his hand, contemplating the affairs of the kingdom in his head. He had a huge burden on his shoulders and the stress was affecting his conscience, as Katherine said it would all those years ago in the Court of Bishops at the Black Friars Church. He rubs his hand against his face in frustration.

"Sweetheart." He spots Anne entering his chambers and he rises from his seat, a smile arising on his face, but the sour look on Anne's face changes his demeanor immediately.

"How could you?" Anne questions forcefully.

"What?" Henry holds his arms out in question.

"Your shirts. She still makes your shirts. How could you let her?" Anne is more than angry as she yells at her king.

"I hadn't even thought about it." Indeed, Henry hadn't. It wasn't even one of his priorities now. He was more concerned with matters of the state then his wife making his shirts. He moves into his bed chambers, Anne following behind angrily.

"You told me there was nothing intimate between you anymore." Anne continues to yell.

"There isn't. What's intimate? They're just shirts, for God's sake." Henry's anger is rising as his mistress scolds him for some entirely unknown reason.

"No, they're not just shirts. They are you and me. They are you and her." Anne points between her and Henry and then points outside the room roughly, emphasizing her point. With Katherine at court, she was still number two.

"I don't understand." Henry sighs, now irritated at Anne's actions. He clearly does not get what she is trying to show him.

"Then you ought to." Anne's voice is tense as she speaks. She shakes her head in incredulity. "It's so hard, when we're to be married, but she's still here. You can't have three people in a marriage. Why can't you see that?" She is rather distressed in her tone, trying to get Henry to understand her reasoning.

"Why can't you understand that I have more things to think about than my shirts?" Henry slams his hands down on the bed, enraged that Anne would have the nerve to grit her teeth at him as she spoke. The argument is over, his anger ruling out in the end. He leaves his chambers abruptly, Anne glaring at his retreating back.

* * *

 _ **Bishopric of Rochester**_

"The king has agreed to a new and harsh treatment of poisoners," Thomas More relays to Bishop Fisher as the bishop recovers from his near death from poison. "They're to be boiled alive. He is wise to have dealt so severely in this case. But he cannot avoid some suspicion. At least against the Lady and her father." More agrees with the punishment, yet his conscience urges him to consider that someone else is responsible for the matter. The king will be partially blamed, but the finger of the people will point at the Lady Anne.

Bishop Fisher relaxes in his bed, his voice raspy as he converses with More. "We are all in the hands of God. But I worry that, while I lie here uselessly the king may proceed with his divorce since he has given himself the power." Genuine concern is laced in Fisher's voice. He is no use to God laying in his bed.

More responds, "I was told that at the last council the king became angry and demanded to know what would happen if he went ahead and married Anne without the pope's permission."

"And what did they say?" questions Bishop Fisher.

"Only Boleyn supported him. Not even his friend Brandon," More answers.

"Thank God." Both men have looks have relief on their face. However, More knows this will only last so long before the king looses patience.

* * *

 _ **Greenwich Palace**_

King Henry bursts into his wife's chambers, startling all her ladies who bow as he enters. They are frightened by his sudden entry, but only respond with the simple "majesty" greeting before they depart the room to leave the couple alone. Katherine emerges from her

"Katherine," Henry speaks. His voice is sharp and commands attention.

Katherine appears unfazed. "Husband. How are you feeling?" she questions.

"What?" Henry is taken aback by the question.

Katherine is genuinely concerned for Henry's health, stating, "They told me you are suffering from a toothache which is a terrible pain. And someone even said you had a touch of gout." Henry rolls his eyes at the notion while his jaw clenches.

"Of course, I don't have gout. I don't know why you even listen to such stupid rumors." Henry's voice is filled with irritation at her words. Court gossip causes nothing, but trouble with the women in his life.

"Because I care for you." Katherine's words sting Henry, a guilty expression appearing on his face as her words strike his very core. But, before she sees the emotion, it vanishes, and his resolve hardens as he gets on what with what he was there to do.

"Catherine, you're going to have to stop making my shirts." Henry's words are concise and to the point.

"I thought you liked the shirts I made for you. I see you are wearing one." Katherine reaches for Henry, but he yanks his hand away before she can feel the cuff of his shirt she was reaching for. "Henry…" Katherine continues.

"What now?"

"Our daughter Mary has been unwell. She has not kept any food down for eight days now. Do you not think we should visit her?" Katherine attempts one more time to speak to Henry, to search for any compassion he may still hold for her. She sees none.

"You can go and visit the princess if you like. And you can stay there." Henry's voice is void of any emotion. He seems not to care, but only seeks for Katherine to leave.

"Henry, not for our daughter, nor for anyone, would I dream of leaving you. You know my rightful place is by your side." Katherine's words are filled with desperation, but also with determination as she indicates she will not give up her title as queen so easily, nor her position as his wife. Henry departs immediately, Katherine having won the argument for now.

* * *

Katherine sat weeping in her carriage as she moved further and further away from court. Henry had sent her away rather suddenly, forbidding her to contact with their daughter. However, he did not relay the news himself, but instead send Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk. Maria de Salinas, Baron Willoughby, comforted her dear friend, hoping the Princess Mary would not suffer the same fate as her mother.

* * *

 _ **Ludlow Castle August 1531**_

"Gracie?" the Princess Mary calls from her bed. She had been confined to her room the past few days due to her intense cramping from her bleeding. She suffered from this malady occasionally.

"I'm here Majesty," Grace responds, rising from her chair to place a damp cloth on the princess's warm face.

Mary smiles at her friend, reaching upwards to hold Grace's hand in hers. "What would I do without you Gracie?"

Grace merely smiled back and replied cheerfully, "I hope you may never have to find out Mary." Turning around to return to her stitching, Grace's face turned grim. She had just read the contents of her father's letter. It seemed Anne Boleyn's star continued to rise and would reach its goal soon. Grace just hoped she would not be taken from her friend when she needed her the most.

* * *

Comments and feedback welcomed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to all my followers/favs: kitsune-miko-witch, ,panteli, ViciousGingerLady, Lady Isabelle Black, lilou5701, jenni10121, bella Cullen, thewolfbitch, AshlyKagome15, missrevenge98, Child of Dreams, AvenaT, Vogiatzis, LauraCsn, Unique16, Yogibear14, ihavenoideawhattocallmyself, anime-aquarion-fan, ILoveThee, Psychotic-Penguin13, , abi prez, KatherineSnow, ADarkerBeauty, J.E. Veronica, Daisy96, and charista. Hope you guys enjoy the next chapter! Still going off the script for now and touching the most important events as well as including my own events. Some dates may be different then in the show and some historical dates I do not know so I am guessing.**

 **Response to Guest: Thank you!**

* * *

 **Ch. 2**

" _ **No. I will not give up what is rightfully mine to adorn a woman who is the scandal of Christendom."**_

 _ **~Katherine of Aragon, The Tudors**_

" _ **Our sins are more easily remembered than our good deeds."**_

 _ **~Democritus**_

* * *

 _ **Parliament Westminster November 1531**_

Bishop Fisher stands at the head of Parliament, preaching to them about the separation of the church from the king's power. He had recovered from his illness and was inspired more than ever to share his views with his fellow cardinals and brothers of the cloth, much to the dismay of Lord Thomas Boleyn. "And I say we continue to insist upon the Church's immunity from secular interference and we shall continue to insist upon it because that immunity was ordained by God." Many members of the clergy shout in agreement with Fisher's words. He continues, "And this immunity from secular interference should extend to the ordained priests and servants of our holy Church." Again, nods and shouts of approval are seen and heard. Fisher's voice becomes stronger and harsher as he speaks, reminiscing his recent encounter with poison and near death. "And they shall be free from the threat of murder and harm by the use of poison or any other foul means when their only crime has been to obey God's law and uphold the sanctity of the Church.

I beg you to understand." All members of the clergy clap for the Bishop while the nobility shake their heads and remain silent. Sir Thomas Cromwell, his majesty's secretary, has a pensive look on his face rather than that of disgust like the nobles.

Meanwhile, Lord Thomas Boleyn sits with his son, George, on the second floor of the church in an alcove. He is livid, his voice tense as he speaks. "The king can't allow this. The vote is crucial. One way or another, he must break the Church. Now and for always." He is resolute in this matter. He needed to secure Anne's rise to the throne and he would not let a mere bishop stop him or his family in their rise to power.

* * *

 _ **Tower of London, Christmastide December 1531**_

The halls of the palace are decorated for Christmas, hordes of candles lighting up the splendor of the great hall and the throne room all decorated with garlands of evergreen and golden accents. King Henry sits on his throne, Mistress Anne sitting in the throne beside him. Katherine of Aragon was gone, having departed as Henry ordered. Anne was at the height of her power which suited her greatly as she had a type of glow around her. She wore a crimson red dress, quite low cut, but it had been designed in the French style as all her dresses were. On her head was a crown of evergreen while her neck lay a set of pearls with a ruby pendent. The king looked as majestic as ever wearing a black outfit trimmed with ermine and decorated with rubies. He seemed happy, more so than he had in years.

Two servants approach the pair, carrying what seemed to be a box of some sorts with presents inside. Another announces, "Lady Anne, a Christmas present from His Majesty." The king and Anne share a smile for a moment as the servants' approach, Anne's face breaking out in a huge smile when she sees the contents. Grand material for clothes was presented to her, one the color of royalty while the other white and laced with gold.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Anne says proudly as she leans closer to Henry's throne.

"I've also had a great bed made for you. It's almost ready," Henry whispers to her privately. She shares another small smile with him.

"Your Majesty, a present from the Lady Anne." Anne turns away from Henry, smirking as she sees her present being presented. Henry is elated, rising from his chair to inspect the present.

"Boar spears." The pair let out a small laugh.

"Made after the Biscayan fashion, apparently." Henry takes one of the spears from the servant, running his hand over the fine craftsmanship. "The best." He walks to the platform his throne rests on, taking the stance for a throw. He playfully lunges at the servant, scaring the man out of his wits, but making the courtiers as well as Anne laugh with glee at his humor. He places the spear back in the man's hands, nodding at the servant for giving in to his humor. "Thank you, sweetheart." He returns to his throne, taking Anne's hand in his as he sits down again.

"Another present for Your Majesty."

Another servant approaches, holding a chest which reveals a silver goblet of fine making when he opens it. Henry is intrigued. "Come closer." He waves the man forward. "It's very fine," he says with admiration. "Who sent it to me?"

"Her Majesty, Queen Catherine, Your Majesty," the servant squeaks out nervously.

Henry's demeanor changes immediately. "I will not receive it." Anne turns to Henry, looking at his face as it tuned angry. She too was upset at the Queen's audacity. Of course, others would feel the same about her sitting on the Queen's throne. "Take it away." Henry lets out a sigh of frustration.

"Don't let her spoil everything," Anne speaks quietly, rubbing her thumb over Henry's hand. He nods to her and looks forward expectantly.

"Your Majesty, the Chancellor, Sir Thomas More." Anne tries to remove her hand from the king's grasp, but Henry does not allow it, bringing their intertwined hands back to the arm of his chair. Anne knows More dislikes her immensely and she did not want to make things worse by displaying her power over Henry, which More would view as manipulation.

"Sir Thomas."

More approached the king, looking awfully exhausted. He was up all hours of night handling the matters of the kingdom. It was tiresome work. Respectfully, More bowed and spoke, "Majesty." He hesitated for a moment. "Mistress Anne," he continued. His voice was monotone as he spoke to the king, not wanting to be anywhere near the woman who had displaced the queen. "I have a seasonal gift for you, with your permission." The king nods at him and waves forward the servant holding the gift who approaches and takes a protective sheet off the object. It is a beautiful silver cross, the crucifixion of Jesus depicted on it. "It reminds us of what we have to celebrate," More states humbly.

"Thank you, Sir Thomas. I will treasure this," Henry responds genuinely. This gift reminded him of God's grace and that God had appointed him King of England on Earth. "We must meet soon, Thomas. There's a great deal to do with the management of this kingdom." More nods at the king's words. "There is a great clamour against the privileges enjoyed by the clergy and their abuse of it. Further measures will certainly have to be taken." More agreed wholeheartedly, but he was unsure just how much the king would carry out his word.

"I look forward to consulting with Your Majesty." More bows to the king and turns away to let other courtiers present their gifts to his majesty.

"Thomas?" Henry questions. More turns around to face the king and wait for his question. "You have a niece, correct? The daughter of your late sister? Perhaps it would be in her favor to come to court and assist the Lady Anne as her maid of honor."

More's face lost color. There was no way in hell he would let the women dig her claws into his niece and manipulate her thoughts or worse-make her life miserable by serving her. Of course, More knew exactly which niece Henry was talking about: Warwick's daughter. " I thank your majesty for this favor, but my niece is already in service to the Princess Mary and would never leave her side. Even if I dragged her by her feet she would still return to her Grace." Henry was taken aback by More's answer while Anne was appalled that More could get away with such a comment. However, Henry soon broke out into a chuckle.

"That would be quite a sight Thomas. I will not take my daughter's lady from her." Despite what many courtiers thought, Henry still held a soft-spot for his daughter. No matter what Anne did to tear him away from her, the father and daughter connection could not be broken. "Happy Christmas."

More breaks out into a smile, the first and last one that would grace his face for the night. "Your Majesty."

* * *

 _ **Ludlow Castle, Christmas December 1531**_

Despite the gloomy atmosphere of the castle, Gracie would not let Mary's spirits be dampened by her separation from her mother. She would try to her best ability to make sure Mary's Christmas would not be any less special because she was away from court. As she walked down the hallway to Mary's room, she held a few packages in her hands, some large while others smaller. She had sent a letter to her father, detailing exactly what she wanted to give to Mary, no mention whatsoever of what she might prefer. She replied to her father that Mary's happiness was all she wanted for Christmas this year. Regardless of her answer, her father still sent to her dresses of satin, silk, and velvet, a golden cross necklace to hang around her neck, and another Book of Hours. Grace had also received some gifts from other family members, including her brothers and Uncle Thomas. They all sent letters wishing her well and waited for the time when she would be able to visit with them.

Reaching Mary's chambers, Grace knocked on the door before entering. Mary had asked of Grace to never use formalities with her when they were alone, an indication of their special bond. They were the closest of friends, practically sisters. Mary was at her desk, writing a letter in Spanish to her mother. Letters were still exchanged between the two, yet some were interceded. Mary had to censor her letters or code them so her mother would understand her response. Katherine did the same in her letters.

Looking up from her work, Mary smiled at her friend, but her face showed confusion as soon as she saw the packages in her hands. Grace giggled at her expression before sitting on the chaise across from her and in front of the fireplace. "These are for you, Mary."

Mary immediately froze, taken aback by Grace's gesture. Her father had sent no gifts, her mother was unable to, and no other ladies had considered her welfare. They had all returned to their families for Christmas, except Grace. She would not listen to Mary's pleas and had decided to remain with Mary until Easter, when she would visit her family as she promised.

Mary broke into tears, overcome by the gesture. Grace merely smiled, placed the packages on the chaise, and went to embrace her friend. Mary greatly appreciated Grace's efforts to make her Christmas cheerful and she had done just that. With Grace by her side, she knew she could get through the worst of times.

* * *

 _ **Hampton Court, January 1532**_

King Henry sits on his throne in front of the entire mass of bishops and other clergy members of England. He stares down each church member and speaks in an intimidating voice. "I have here in my hands the oath which all members of the clergy swear to the pope at the time of their consecration. It is in clean contrast to the oath they swear to us." He rises from his throne and paces in front of the men, the oaths of consecration clasped firmly in his hand. "My beloved subjects we thought the clergy were wholly our subjects. But now we can see they are only half our subjects if they are our subjects at all." Anger filters through Henry's voice. He is more than displeased with their lack of action on his behalf. "My Lords I demand to know whose subjects are you. The pope's or mine?" He points the oaths of consecration at the clergy before bringing it to point at himself. He has made an ultimatum and wants the correct answer, otherwise, the clergy would lose their heads in Henry's lust for power.

* * *

 _ **Crosby Hall, Easter 1532**_

A servant enters the study of Sir Thomas More and announces the entry of Sir. Throckmorton. "Sir George Throckmorton, Your Honour." More rises from behind his desk, Richard Neville doing so as well from his own position in front of More. The Brother-in-laws were also conversing on the topic More would now present to Sir Throckmorton.

More reaches for Throckmorton's hand, shaking it firmly. Seeing the Duke of Warwick, Throckmorton bows while Neville waves his hand, dismissing the formalities and also shaking his hand. More urges him and Neville to sit. "Sir George, I am very glad to see you. I know you're a good Catholic man one who's never been afraid to speak his conscience."

"So, in truth, should every man, Your Honour," Throckmorton replies respectfully.

More begins his speech to Throckmorton. "Indeed. These days, it seems there are many who can be bullied into silence. Or worse, into acting against their conscience. Mark my words, Sir George these next few days will determine the future of our faith. Whatever Mr. Cromwell says, however he dresses his argument up with honeyed words, the effect remains the same."

Throckmorton shakes his head in agreement. Neville then speaks on More's behalf. "He is demanding that the clergy submit themselves totally to the king's will and to secular authority. If they do so, the King will have complete power and be excommunicated from the church for his actions. It would be a disaster for England."

"God forbid he should ever succeed." More continues, his voice rising in intensity as he does so. "If he does, there'll be no more Church, no more religion no more spiritual life in this kingdom.

Cromwell might as well rape the Blessed Virgin himself."

"Your Honour," Throckmorton exclaims in shock, motioning the sign of the cross across his chest, Neville merely nodding his head in agreement. He knew his brother-in-law's words were harsh and disgraceful, but they revealed the truth behind the king's actions.

More approaches Throckmorton and grasps him by the shoulders, practically begging him to listen. "That's why I'm asking you asking you and people like you, to remain strong and true. If you do then you will deserve God's great reward and much worship will come to you, personally. Believe me in time, even the king himself will thank you."

* * *

 _ **Westminster Abbey, Easter 1532**_

A friar stands preaching from the pulpit in Westminster Abbey, giving the Easter service to the king and his courtiers. It is silent as all listen to his inspiring words, yet the service takes a drastic turn. "We give thanks for the reign of the king's grace and we ask God's blessing on him and on his people," the friar speaks, his voice filled with respect. "But on this holy day, we are obliged to say that some of Your Highness' preachers are these days too much like those of Ahab's days in whose mouth was found a false and lying spirit. Theirs is the gospel of untruth not afraid to tell of license and liberty for monarchs which no Christian king should dare even to contemplate." The friar turns ugly, accusing his majesty and his court of pursuing a path of evil. Henry turns towards Anne who looks on edge. The friar's words are now directed solely at the king. "I beseech Your Highness to take heed not to pursue the path you seem to be taking or you will surely follow Ahab, who married the whore Jezebel and surely will incur his unhappy end." Anne looks appalled that someone would speak such words against her, the king looking enraged as well. The courtiers break out in angry shouts. "That dogs will lick your blood as they licked Ahab's which God avert and forbid."

The friar's words are halted as he is dragged down from the pulpit. "That's quite enough," the two men say as they drag the man out of the church. The friar goes kicking and yelling, his voice never faltering. "Unhand me, you dogs. I am a man of God. Unhand me! Unhand me! I am a man of God."

The king turns to look at More who was also attending the service. He dares not make eye contact with the king, instead looking forward and ignoring the shouts. The Duke of Warwick stands next to him, the same emotionless expression. Yet, between the two men stands Grace Neville, grasping her uncle's hand tightly and staring at her feet. Jezebel was the most reviled woman in the bible, yet she did not see how the Mistress Anne could be such a woman. She had known her in France and she was the most kind out of all the Queen's ladies. Yet, she had been disposed of Queen Katherine's presence in court and reigned supreme as the King's woman. Grace feels the king's glare on her uncle and it bothers her to no end. She looks up, catching the king's eye. She does not look away, but meets his eyes boldly. Sharp blue meets emerald green for a few seconds before Grace painfully tears her eyes away from the king's. He wasn't even looking at her. It was like he was looking through her. She was scared, terrified for the life of her uncle. That was all said in the king's eyes. Yet, she feared more for Mary.

* * *

 _ **July 1532, Parliament Westminster**_  
"All rise for the king." King Henry walks through the entrance into the main hall of Westminster. The decision is to be announced in regard to the king as supreme head of the church. All clergymen and courtiers bow to him as he makes his way to his throne in the middle of the room. He stands in front of his throne, but not before looking at More and Bishop Fisher. "Parliament is in session." The king and all other men in the room take their seats.

Henry looks every bit the king he is as he speaks from his throne, but he lust for power is evident. "My Lords your Graces have you come to a decision? Do you still deny me? Or do you accept the authority of your king?" His voice is filled with authority as his voice echoes through the abbey. More and Fisher cannot bear to look at anyone or anything. Thomas and George Boleyn sit in an alcove of the abbey, waiting desperately for a response. Power is too near to let it slip through their fingers.

A bishop makes his way to the king, many bowing as he passes. It is the archbishop of Canterbury, an elderly man who is too tired to resist the will of the king. "Your Majesty." Canterbury kneels in submission, coughing as he does so. He is sick and he knows his time is nearing. Before the king he places a document of submission. "Here is the submission of the clergy to Your Majesty's will." His voice sounds defeated, but the king does not notice. He is overcome with victory.

"There," the elder Boleyn says. All is finished. The Boleyns are now on top of the world and most favored by the king. "They've surrendered. The Church is broken," he speaks in satisfaction.

"I never thought I would live to see this day in England," Bishop Fisher says mournfully.

"Now, by act of Parliament, heretics are free to swan around the streets of London without check," More adds. His voice is filled with disgust.

"If I could weep, Sir Thomas, I would weep tears of blood." Both men turn their eyes towards the king. The Church is broken and if they dared step out of line, the king would surely kill them.

* * *

 _ **Tower of London**_

The king sits in his throne room, rubbing his hands across his face. He is joyful with the decision the clergy has made in regard to accepting him as the supreme head of the church, but he knows in his heart that Thomas More as well as others with disagree.

"Sir Thomas More," Mr. Cromwell announces and just like that, Thomas and Henry stare back at one another unsure of what to say. They were first friends before political allies, but now it seemed their relationship was over.

"Sir Thomas," the king says solemnly.

"Your Majesty," More replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He bows respectfully before kneeling in front of the king and begins to plead with him. "I come to offer my resignation from my post as chancellor. I ask Your Highness to allow me to withdraw from public life so that I may spend what time remains to me provisioning my soul, and in the service of God." Henry's face remains blank, but Cromwell is shocked as well as pleased. He can gain the position of chancellor. "In this bag I carry the great seal of my office which I find now too heavy to hold." Henry shakes his head at Cromwell who receives the seal. The bells of Westminster ring in the background, alerting all men of the never-ending silence and th awkward atmosphere in the room.

More rises from his position and Henry speaks. "I discharge you, most willingly. In everything you have done for me, Sir Thomas you have always been good and gracious both in private and in public affairs."

More's voice is hesitant as he speaks, but his mind was urging him to reveal its inner thoughts. "Your Majesty, I promise on my honour that I will never speak publicly of Your Majesty's great matter. But now, in private, I must confess to you, as someone who once enjoyed Your Majesty's confidence and friendship, my deepest belief that if Your Majesty saw fit to be reconciled with Queen Catherine the divisions and hurts of your kingdom would at once be healed." More is begging as he speaks, hoping the break can be fixed, but there is little hope as he looks into the king's eyes. "There. I've said it. Now my lips are forever sealed."

More turns to leave, but Henry stops him, a threatening tone in his voice. "Thomas, I will hold you to that promise." More only stares at Henry, taking in what he has said, and then leaves abruptly. Henry lets out a breath he was holding, taking his words in. He has lost himself in his quest for power and has lost one of his most dearest friends. How far would he go to achieve his divorce? To become head of church and state? Would he have to kill More?

* * *

 _ **September 1532, Middleham Castle**_

Grace sits sewing in the presence of her father in his study, her Uncle pacing back and forth in front of the fire. The Lady Anne had just been made Marquess of Pembroke, a traditional male title now given to the woman of a king. Her Uncle was furious. She could tell that just by the way he hastened through the courtyard on his horse like a madman. Anne was now elevated into the nobility, indicating her power over the king.

"He has been bewitched by that woman, Richard. It is too late. He will not return to the queen, even if God commanded it himself," More speaks, halting and placing his hand on the mantle of the fireplace.

"Do not say such things, Uncle. God will always be near his majesty and will guide him down a path of right."

Thomas smiled at his niece. "Always optimistic you are my dear. You keep me sane." Grace blushed at her Uncle's comment and returned to her sewing.

"We just have to pray Thomas. That's all we can do," Richard responds. "The king has asked me to go with him and the court to Calais for the visit with King Francis in November. Grace will accompany me. Will you join us?"

"I think not. I will remain here with my children. I wish you a joyful time though, even if the King will present the Lady Anne as his future wife. King Francis will only allow it for pleasantries. In due time his majesty will see that Francis is loyal to his holiness." Richard could only nod. His majesty was setting down a path of no return and only Grace could see that God would help guide him back.

* * *

 _ **4 October 1532, Crosby Hall**_

Sir Thomas More, his daughter Margaret, and Grace walk through the gardens of More Manor enjoying the fresh air before it became too cold to enjoy long walks. Both women stand on either side of More, their arms intertwined as they talked about old memories, God, and the Princess Mary. However, the mood turns serious as More addresses the topic of his demise in regard to the king's policies that may come to pass. "Margaret, darling daughter, and Grace, my lovely niece, it might come to pass that I could be held to account for my beliefs."

More wraps both arms around the most important women in his life. He fears their reactions to him once he reveals the purpose of bringing up his beliefs. "But the king allows for your conscience," Margaret speaks. "He will not punish his most loyal servant for things he will not speak on," Grace adds.

"Nonetheless, my dears, it's better to be prepared."

"I don't understand. Neither of us do Uncle."

"Sweethearts," More mutters in a low as well as said tone, "we must discuss the question of martyrdom." Both women begin to cry at such a notion.

"No, no," More comforts them, "Listen. Because if I thought my wife and children and my dear sister's family would encourage me to die in a good cause it would so comfort me. In great joy, I would merrily run to death." He takes in both women's expressions. "Please. Please," he pleads with them.

"Father," Margaret cries before rushing into her father's arms and collapsing in them. Grace can only stand there staring at the scene in front of her. More looks to her for support, but she merely backs away.

"Gracie," More says to his niece, beckoning her back to him.

"No. No, you told me you would remain true to your conscience and so will I. Why do you have to consider death, martyrdom for such a cause? I will not allow this. I cannot. You must have faith in God as you have told me always too. As the Princess Mary has always said to me. You cannot do this. You will show the kind the errors of his ways. You must." Grace turns her back on her uncle as tears stream down her face and she returns to the manor. More and Margaret can only watch. She is still so young and does not understand how important More's actions would be for England. They can only hope that will she come to understand his decision.

* * *

 _ **28 October 1532, Calais**_ _ **  
**_

English occupied Calais was full of life as French and English courtiers mingled amongst each other during the reconciliation between their countries. Henry and Francis sat at an elevated table on a platform, discussing politics as well as enjoying watching the courtiers below and discussing women. The Duke of Warwick sat chatting with the Duke of Suffolk whilst Grace and the duke's wife, Katherine, also talked to each other. It had been three years since Grace had been in France, her father touring Europe and bringing her alone with him. She had been a maid of honor to the French King's sister, Marguerite, instead of Queen Claude as her majesty had just passed. She had been a favorite in the French court, intellectual and witty as well as beautiful and lovely to the French courtiers and their king. She was much like Anne, but also different from her as well. She didn't look for power where it was unrightfully hers.

The orchestra then strikes up a unique dance, an exotic song filtering through the grand hall and gorgeous women in Roman costumes appear and begin to dance. "Magnifique," Francis says, staring in awe at the women. The dancers all move in a rhythm as they dance, all eyes following them. One of them even dances with the French king.

"She's ravishing," Francis says as he dances with one of the masked dancers. She is enchanting to him, her sharp eyes looking back at him through the mask. He knew her. He knew he did. The eyes were so familiar. The dance then ends, echoing bravos are heard throughout the hall. Henry comes down from his seat, walking over to the pair. "Do I know you?" Francis questions, the masked woman making a joking gesture to him. Henry then unties the mask and Lady Anne revealed, Loud gasps are heard, whether they are of genuine or fake surprise is unknown. "La belle Anne," Francis says, laughing at her slyness. The pair then begin to have a private conversation, walking away from the courtiers and Henry returning to his chair, pleased that Francis was talking to his future wife.

"Cette epoque ou vous et votre soeur, etiez demoiselles de compagnie aupres de ma reine…(When you and your sister were here in France as ladies in waiting to my queen.

I remember it so well)," Francis says. Anne nods her head while they walk to a more private area. "Je m'en souviens comme si c'etait hier (I remember it so well.)"

"Votre Majeste est tres gracieuse (Your Majesty is very gracious)," Anne replies, "Mais il est des choses peut-etre, que votre Majeste connait a mon sujet je prefererais que vous les gardiez secretes et qu'elles ne soient jamais mentionnees au Roi…(but there are some things, perhaps, which Your Majesty knows about me which I would rather you kept secret, and never mention to the king)." She looks at the king with a serious look in her eyes. What happened in France had to stay in France. She was never loose, but perhaps her behavior in France said otherwise. She want any more rumors going around in court about her.

"Madame la marquise, I am a Frenchman. I would never betray the secrets of a woman," Francis responds, Anne joking at his flirtatiousness. "Especially a beautiful woman, who must naturally have a great many." The pair sit down as their conversation turns severe.

"Do you really support my marriage to the king?" Anne questions.

"For one thing, I hate the emperor so that anything which discomforts him like the divorce of his aunt pleases me immeasurably," Francis states. He wants nothing more than to displease the emperor who had held him as well as his sons as captives of war for all those years. "But also, I know you are a friend of France, so we can do business."

"But there is something else?" Anne pushes.

Francis leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "It is not my place to say this, madam but perhaps we know each other well enough. The fact is the station you will be asked to occupy is not an easy one especially to those not born to it. It is much harder to have everything than to have nothing." He pauses as he tries to let everything sink in. Anne had noble blood, but she had not been chosen as Katherine had been. "If I had not been born to be king I would certainly not have wished that fate upon myself." Anne nodded, understanding what he meant. The conversation seemed to be over.

"Majesty," Anne said rising from her chair, but then, Francis also rose, a great smile on his face.

"Mon ange, ma Cherie, mon amour, (My angel, my darling, my love)," he mutters and Anne turns around to see Grace standing in the archway leading to their seating area. Francis had spotted her walking from her table to join the dancing and he immediately goes to embrace her, kissing her on both cheeks in the French fashion.

"Majeste," Grace replies, "J'espérais surprendre sa grâce. Je ne l'ai pas vue depuis plus de trois ans maintenant. Le tribunal français me manque (I hoped to surprise her grace, Lady Marguerite. I have not seen her for three years now. I miss the French court.) "

"Well my dear, my sister is not here so I can have you all to myself,' Francis jokes, reaching around to carry her bridal style in his arms. Grace throws her head back laughing, attracting the attention of the courtiers and Henry who look at the pair in curiosity.

The Duke of Warwick catches sight of the King of France, his daughter is the king's arms and he laughs. Francis was no threat to his daughter's honor, her being a close friend to his sons and a tutor to his youngest daughters. He watched the sight with happiness, knowing his daughter's life would soon turn for the worse. He knew she would be taken from Mary and prayed she'd have the strength to cope with the loss.

Francis knew it too. Though he accepted Anne's marriage to Henry, he still had a conscience. Katherine was a good woman and Mary was the rightful heir to the throne. There was also the conflict of religion. If Henry proceeded to take the path he had begun, Francis would have to act against him. He had to protect the Catholic faith, no matter the cost. Looking at Grace now, he thought about the conversation he had with Anne. Anne had not been born into power, but Grace definitely had. As a descendent of the Plantagenets, Francis knew her fate was intertwined with Anne's. How, he did not know, but he was certain their lives would cross.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to all my new favs/followers: skittlezxBabex146, Stark-ingMad, anaknisatanas, ElephantLover220, leeyfjs, and Phantom-of-light.**

* * *

 **Ch. 3**

 _ **Men would**_ _ **live exceedingly quiet if these two words, mine and thine, were taken away**_

 _ **~Anaxagoras**_

 _ **"If I had to choose between extreme sorrow and extreme happiness, I would always choose sorrow, for when you are happy you forget about spiritual things, you forget about God. But in your sorrow, He is always with you."**_

 _ **~Katherine of Aragon, The Tudors**_

* * *

 _ **Dover November 14**_ _ **th**_ _ **1532**_

The English court had just returned from France and had arrived in Dover where they would reside for a few days. Unbeknownst to the court, the king and Mistress Anne had met secretly and were being married by a priest in the late hours of the evening. They met in a secret underground area of one of the churches of Dover, the Boleyn family present. However, the Duke of Suffolk was late, and Henry's anger was beginning to show.

"Where is he? Where's Suffolk?" Henry asked angrily, his impatience getting the better of him. Anne looked irritated. She would not let Suffolk spoil her moment. Suddenly Suffolk appeared, though he appeared to have been hesitant in his arriving. As he came to stand beside the King, Henry hit him across the chest rather abruptly for his late arrival. He then looked to the priest, urging him to start.

The priest then began. "We are gathered here together, in the sight of God Almighty to join in holy matrimony this man and this woman. Will you both answer that you will keep all these coming days rightful with righteousness and discretion, with mercy and truth so help you God?" The Boleyns looked please, Anne and Henry both look forward to their future, and Suffolk stands on in agony. Meanwhile, Cromwell is indifferent. However, all know England is going to change, for better or for worse.

* * *

 _ **Crosby Hall January 1533**_

Sir Thomas More, Lady Alice More, Archbishop Fisher, and Ambassador Eustace Chapuys all sit in a parlor room of the More Manor discussing politics of The English court. Alice stands in the background, merely listening and not speaking to the men's conversation. She refills each one's cup with wine as they speak. Fisher's demeanor is tense as he discusses his recent discovery.

"They want to make Cranmer archbishop? I wonder if the pope knows of the reputation Cranmer has here for being devoted heart and soul to the Lutheran movement," Eustace responds with disgust. He appalls the Lutheran Movement for it threatened the Catholic faith.

"He was once chaplain to the Boleyns, He ought to be required to take a special oath not to meddle with the divorce," Fisher adds.

"Of course, he'll meddle. That's what they want. They don't care about Holy Church anymore. They don't care about the people," More says exasperated. His wife comes to rests her hands on his shoulder in a comforting manner.

"The king, in his blindness, fears no one but God," Chapuys continues.

"I fear for the queen," remarks Fisher.

More adds on. "They say Anne Boleyn hates her openly, and her daughter too.

She has made threats against the child."

"Those are dangerous words. Think also of the lives of your own children. Your sister's children. The boys can handle themselves but think of Grace. And she is still with the Princess mind you. She is no longer safe if she stays there of her own volition," Alice says calmly. She speaks with wisdom, calming her husband down.

"Your niece, the Lady Grace, she is still with the Princess?" Chapuys questions. More nods his head, confirming Chapuys words. "How old is she?" More's head jerks up from its position staring down at the table.

"Why?" More responds, "You want to bring her into this?" he continues with a sharp edge to his tone.

"Sir Thomas, I apologize if I offend you, but perhaps she could be of some use to our cause." Chapuys says, a genuine look on his face. He would not let Grace be harmed. "She can speak on the Princess' behalf. Maybe even persuade Mary to ease her stubbornness. I would dare not say this if it was necessary, but the king's eye will roam if that whore is pregnant. His gaze could land on your niece. I'm sure Lord Warwick will also be hesitant, but I see no other option."

"Desperate times call for desperate measure Thomas," Fishers says, "Grace would know what to do. She's an intelligent girl. And she's a woman of God. She could help bring his majesty back to the Catholic faith."

More looked unsettled, Alice even more so as her hands shook. More hesitated before he answered. "I'll…. I'll send a letter to Richard, but I strongly disagree with this. Richard will disagree with this. And Grace, if somehow this idea of yours comes to pass, she will never agree."

Chapuys nodded his head in thanks. "On my honor Sir Thomas, I will not push your family nor Lord Warwick's to do this. But, his holiness would be greatly in your debt. I would be greatly in your debt." Chapuys rose from his seat and bowed respectfully. "Now I must leave. The Queen is expecting me." Both of the men nodded, Chapuys donning a cloak and leaving them. Alice also left, seeing that the two great men needed to speak in private.

"This is a great thing to ask Thomas, but I beg you, please see reason." Fisher leaned over to pat his friend's shoulder before he too left More and returned to his bishopric. Meanwhile, More sat in the parlor consumed by his thoughts. He would not drag Grace into this if he could help it. She would never forgive them, meaning him and her father, if they forced her to insert herself into the king's life. She would rebel. But, Mary…Mary would be the only reason for her consent.

* * *

 _ **Ludlow Castle February 18, 1533**_

It was Princess Mary's birthday and yet, she saw no reason to celebrate. She was separated from her mother and her father had practically made Anne Boleyn his queen. Grace knew how hard it was for Mary. She hadn't been to court in years nor had she seen her parents. Letters between Mary and her mother were becoming less and less. Grace's brother Richard had to smuggle the last letter from Mary to her mother, giving Chapuys the letter who was able to make a visit to the queen.

Mary was sitting at a table in the dining room, eating her breakfast next to the pitiful fire. Only a few servants remained, but none of them were kind to her. Though she was a Princess, they barely spoke to her and gossiped about happenings at court in front of her. Their allegiances had changed or maybe, they had been with the Boleyns all along. Mary could only count on Grace who was not only her loyal lady, but her true friend.

Grace soon entered the dining room, having just awoken from her sleep. She had stayed up all night worrying. Her father had sent a letter of Anne's marriage to the king which she revealed to Mary last night. Mary had cried for hours in Grace's arms while Grace barely slept at all. Waking the next morning, Mary had found Grace still dressed, but sleeping at an awkward angle since she had been comforting Mary. The Princess did not wake her friend, deciding to let her sleep a few more hours. She quietly left the room after she dressed herself and had made her way to the dining room where a servant presented a cold breakfast to her at the order of Lady Salisbury.

"Happy birthday Mary," Grace said cheerfully to her friend. Her hands were held behind her back, a letter and parcel in her hands. She presented them to Mary who attempted to look happy at her friend's efforts.

"I said no presents Gracie," Mary remarked, but her demeanor changed immediately when she saw the letter.

"It came this morning. It's from your mother. I'm sure of it," Grace said. Mary's mood improved significantly at Grace's words. "And I hope you enjoy the present. I specifically asked my father for it."

Mary then reached for the parcel, first untying the ribbon and then opening the paper. The gift enclosed was a necklace with a white rose pendant, the symbol of the Yorkist dynasty. "My mother received it as a gift from Queen Elizabeth, your grandmother. I thought it would be fitting to return it to her granddaughter." Mary fingered the beautiful piece of jewelry. The chain was gold with pearls interlaced with it. The pendant was beautiful, with pearls also hanging from it and a ruby set in the middle of the pendant. Tears fell from Mary's face, her heart filled with gratefulness at Grace's gesture.

"Thank you, Grace. I truly appreciate all you have done for me." Grace took her friend's hand and squeezed it in a comforting matter.

"No matter what, I won't leave you Mary. You have my word." Grace released Mary's hand and took her place next to the princess, sitting down at the table. The two girls both ate their breakfast, Lady Salisbury joining them. Mary had thought nothing good could come of her birthday, but Grace proved her wrong as always. With the coming days ahead of her, she would need Grace and by God's will, the girls would not be separated.

* * *

 _ **Ampthill February 1533**_

Katherine of Aragon sat next to the fire of her dreary home, but it did little to warm her. No matter how many blankets Lady Elizabeth covered her with, the Queen still shivered and was cold to the bone. She was not used to this, this lack of humane treatment towards her. She feared her life would end here, without her daughter by her side and her husband barely caring for her. As she fingered the rosary in her lap, she dreamed of better days, when she was happy.

"My lady, the Duke of Suffolk," announce Lady Elizabeth as she interrupted the queen's thoughts. Katherine sent a small smile towards Suffolk's direction, but it did not meet her eyes.

"Your Grace," Katherine muttered, holding her hand out. Suffolk grasps it lightly and bows before placing a kiss on her hand respectfully.

Suffolk fiddled uncomfortably with his riding gloves. He couldn't bear to look the Queen in her eyes, knowing what he would say next would break her heart. "My lady…" His voice was slow and hesitant, each syllable a stab to his insides. "His Majesty has ordered me here. He has asked me to tell…" Suffolk's voice emphasizes the threat Henry has asked him to deliver. "He warns you not to try to return to him since he has now married Lady Anne. From henceforth, you must abstain from using the title of queen. You will now be referred to as the Princess Dowager of Wales. You must also cut your household expenses." Suffolk turns away. He cannot bear seeing the queen's forlorn face as she stares into the fire. "In his generosity, the king allows you to keep your property but will no longer pay your servants' wages or your household expenses.".

"And what of my daughter? What of Mary? May I see her?" Katherine is breaking inside now. Her daughter is the only thing she has left to hang onto.

"Madam. Forgive me." That is all Suffolk needs to say to give his answer. He glances at Katherine for a moment before regretting it.

Katherine speaks to him, but her strong nature is still indicated in her sad words. "Do you know something, Mr. Brandon? If I had to choose between extreme happiness and extreme sorrow I would always choose sorrow." She lets out a laugh of despair if that's even possible. Suffolk looks to her in shock. "For when you are happy, you forget. You forget about spiritual things…you forget about God. But in your sorrow he is always with you."

Suffolk turns back to her. "May the Lord bless you and keep you, my lady." He is filled with helplessness knowing that the queen would never return to London as long as the king was married to Anne. He left abruptly, Elizabeth entering with the queen's food as he left.

Katherine motioned for Elizabeth to sit next to her, to which she complied. "As long as I live, I will call myself the Queen of England." The queen sounds determined, but Elizabeth begins to cry. She mourns for her mistress, knowing how bleak her future looked at the moment.

* * *

 _ **Westminster Abbey April 1533**_

Archbishop Fisher performs one of his daily masses at a church in his bishopric, blessing the men in front of him before turning to the altar and kneeling. More is concealed behind a column in the church, hiding from the king's spies that may be following him. Fisher can see him from the corner of his eye.

After Fisher rises, More goes to speak with him. His voice is urgent as he speaks, and the pair moves to a more covered area in the church. "Your Grace, I have some news. I have learned that Mr. Cromwell is to present another bill to Parliament: The Act of Restraint of Appeals. And under its innocuous title does it conceal its most revolutionary intent."

"What does it say?" Fisher asks.

More takes a hidden parchment out of his cloak and begins to read. "'This realm of England is an empire governed by one supreme head and king and owing no allegiance except to God.' In future, all final appeals on spiritual matters will be heard not in Rome but in England, where the king…'The king will now enjoy plenary, whole and entire power pre-eminence, authority, prerogative and jurisdiction.'" Abhorrence is evident in More's voice.

"Which means, I take it that the act prohibits the hearing of the king's nullity suit by the pope. And, by the same token, bars the queen from appealing to the Vatican against any decision made here," Fisher comments as he tries to wrap his head around this outrageous document.

"Exactly. No English sovereign has ever been granted such absolute power," More says.

"Poor Catherine," Fisher laments, making the sign of the cross across his chest.

"It's worse. There are rumours that the king has married Anne in secret," More continues.

"No," Fisher exclaims in disbelief.

"And that she is already with child." Fisher is now extremely flabbergasted. Nothing could be worse.

* * *

 _ **Tower of London May 1533**_  
Cromwell's office is in a disarray as papers are scattered across tables and several men are reading them over, studying them, and preparing for Anne's coronation.

The King enters abruptly. "Mr. Cromwell."

"Majesty." Cromwell as well as the pages and secretaries in the room all bow. All exit the room except Cromwell, giving the king his privacy.

"Your Majesty," Cromwell repeats.

"How are the preparations for the coronation?" the King questions.

"They're going well, Majesty," Cromwell answers, confused as to why the king was doubting his abilities.

"I want the people to love their new queen as I love her. And if I can love her, why shouldn't they?" the King questions. Cromwell now understands the purpose of the king's visit. He's nervous, more so than usual. He has put everything on the line for Anne.

"I assure you, Majesty, they will love her and shall have every reason to do so." The king tries to smile, but cannot, his nerves getting the better of him. He departs from Cromwell's office, leaving the man to his preparations.

* * *

 _ **The Streets of London June 1**_ _ **st**_ _ **1533**_

It was the day of Anne's coronation and yet, dreariness filled the air. The court was in full swing, joyfully exchanging discourse, but the commoners of London were not cheerful whatsoever. A grand carriage carried Anne and the king through the city. They both wore newly made clothing, the finest of material covered in pearls and gold. A large procession of pages and courtiers proceeded as well as followed the carriage.

A page announced "Hear ye, hear ye make way for His Gracious Majesty, King Henry and the Lady Anne Boleyn, Marquis of Pembroke. Make way, make way." Anne waved as she passed by the commoners, but hey were few and far between. And none of them had a smile on their faces. The king noticed immediately but would not let his anger show. Today was Anne's day and he would not spoil it.

"Where are the crowds? Where are the people?" Lord Boleyn says to his son, concerned that there were no people for his daughter's coronation. He realized then that the people were for Katherine and not Anne.

Suffolk and Warwick rode not far behind Lord Boleyn and his son. Both were not looking forward to the coronation, Suffolk more so than Warwick. Warwick's elder sons also were riding in the procession. Richard was his namesake and heir, 30 years old and the father of two healthy sons, a third on the way. He was the perfect son, the diligent son, the humble son. John was the second son, 27 years old and the more quiet of the sons. He kept to himself but was more involved in politics then his brothers. He was strategic and sly. Christian Neville was the last son born before Grace, 25 years old and the most attractive of the sons with his boyish looks. Yet, he was not a womanizer, but loyal to his wife. She had just delivered their second daughter, Elizabeth. Grace remained at Ludlow with Mary while Warwick's youngest son, Arthur, a mere lad of 13 remained at Warwick Castle with his tutors. Warwick looked on with dread. He did not want his children to become involved in this new England, but they would have to in order to survive.

* * *

 **Westminster Abbey**

Archbishop Cranmer, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, stands at the head of the church, preaching to the congregation filed with courtiers, clergymen, and others. Anne sits on a golden throne positioned to be the center of attention while the king sits on the side in his own throne, wanting the crowning to proceed quicker. He has a look of annoyance after what had taken place outside the abbey while Anne stares straight ahead, calm and collected. Her ladies stand behind her diligently. Mr. Cromwell stands behind the platform where the coronation is taking place, hidden behind columns and a gate that keeps him out of view and yet, he can see everything. Meanwhile, the members of the nobility sit at the front of the cathedral wearing their robes and crowns as a symbol of their position, their traditional garb for formal ceremonies. Suffolk has a blank look on his face while Warwick cannot bear to watch. Both of them stand directly next to Cranmer, Suffolk being the one to present the crown of St. Edward to Archbishop Cramner. Cranmer speaks in Latin, "Veni, creator spiritus mentus tuorum visita. Imple superna gratia quae tu creasti pectora. Tu septiformis munere, digitus paternae dexterae; tu rite promissum Patris, sermone ditans guttura. Accende lumen sensibus, infunde amorem cordibus, infirma nostril corporis, virtute firmans perpeti. (Come oh Holy Spirit and visit us. Implant in our hearts that which you have made, Your Grace. Through you alone we know the Father. Be this our constant belief that you proceed from him. Illuminate our senses, fill our hearts with love, diminish our bodily desires, strengthen our virtues always)."

An echoing "Amen" is heard throughout the abbey. Cranmer turns to receive the crown from Suffolk, but as he goes to crown Anne, Henry interrupts.

"Wait," Henry says with authority. Cromwell looks stunned for the moment, worried that the king was unhappy with his preparations or that the ceremony was about to go downhill. "Give it to me." Cranmer hands the crown to the King who then goes to stand at the front of the platform and in front of the entire crowd holding St. Edwards's crown in front of him. "With this, St. Edward's crown, I do solemnly crown you Queen of England." He turns around to face Anne, whose face does not show any sight of emotion, and places the crown on her head. He then sits back down in his throne while Cranmer finishes the ceremony.

Holding the orb and scepter of the sovereign, Cranmer approached Anne, placing the items in her hands. "And here are the two scepters of the sovereign. Honour and grace be to our Queen Anne. May you prosper, go forward and may you bear a new son of the king's blood." Anne was now queen. The fate of Katherine and Mary was uncertain.

* * *

 _ **Tower of London**_

The grand hall was filled with music and laughter as they celebrated the coronation of Anne. She was front and center, eating on a lifted platform decorated with drapes and other items. Courtiers and clergymen sat at the tables feasting, discussing the coronation among themselves. Meanwhile, the king was on the second level of the hall, watching the festivities below. Cromwell stood with him.

"I don't see Bishop Fisher here," Henry notes as he gazes at the people below.

"No, Your Majesty," Cromwell answered, looking nervous.

"And where is Sir Thomas More? I don't see him here either. Was he not invited?" Henry continues, starting to become irritated.

"He was most certainly invited, Your Majesty," Cromwell responds, fearing the king's anger.

"Then he chose not to attend." Henry remained quiet after this, wondering what could have kept the two men from the coronation.

* * *

 _ **Crosby Hall 7th June 1533**_  
Sir Thomas More and Eustace Chapuys sat in his study, discussing the coronation that had occurred days before. More was pacing while Chapuys sat in front of More's desk. "How was the coronation?" More questioned. He had been writing letters to her niece, keeping her updated so she could inform Mary of what was happening. He had urged Grace to return home, but she would not leave the princess' side. She was the only loyal lady left, Lady Salisbury having been called to court for the coronation and not returning to Ludlow after.

"It was a cold, meagre and uncomfortable thing. And your absence was noted, Sir Thomas," Chapuys said, worried for the once Chancellor. He also feared for the Nevilles. Warwick and his sons had been there, but with More's absence they were all threatened.

"How is Her Majesty bearing up under all of this?" More in concerned for Katherine more than anything. He sits down and takes a sip of ale from his chalice.

"I am no longer allowed to see her," Chapuys relays. "And it is increasingly difficult for us to exchange letters. It is difficult for her to even communicate with her daughter. Thankfully, Grace has been able to help with communication as Mary has told me, but not for some time. She's constantly being watched as Mary is."

"I'm going to try and see her." More does not care he needs to see the queen.

"That would be so dangerous. Even to speak a word in her praise is to risk imprisonment." Chapuys is frightened for More, knowing that More's support for her is worn on his sleeve.

"Nevertheless." More takes another sip of air, before leaning back in his chair and talking a long breath. "You know, I have been thinking about the past when I believed the king to be the most enlightened and promising prince in Christendom. I was sure his reign would be a golden age. I had such high hopes." More reminisces, wishing all could return to that time. "Bishop Fisher has been placed under house arrest. You should beware yourself, Eustace."

"You also should, Thomas. I'm sure the king has duly noted your affinity for Fisher. You must beware for I fear his wrath may extend to you in his misguidance." Chapuys pauses for a moment, before broaching another subject. "You have spoken to Warwick Thomas, yes?" he questions.

"Yes, I have." Thomas is terse in his words. He had hoped not to bring the subject up with Richard, but Fisher was right. Grace had her duty, not just to her family, but to Mary. "Richard will speak to her when the time is right, after the birth of the king's child."

Chapuys nodded his head. "Thank you, Thomas. His holiness will repay you greatly if it so happens."

"I don't need repayment. If Grace must speak on the Queen's and Princess Mary's behalf she will do, even if she has to distract the king." More hated that he had just said those words, but this seemed like the last option available. Grace would do her duty, whether she wanted to or not.

* * *

 _ **Ludlow Castle 8th June 1533**_

Grace was in the entrance hallway of Ludlow, scrubbing the floor on her bare hands and knees. Servants had been dismissed, only a few remaining, but they slacked on their duties. Maintenance of the castle had to be kept up somehow and Grace would not let Mary do it, so she did. Many of the chores had to do with cleaning and though Grace's hands were raw from the work, she did not mind. Making the beds, washing the clothes, mending and sewing, sweeping the floors, washing the floors, cleaning the windows and the tapestries, the list was endless and yet Grace did not complain. All the while, she was careful not to let Mary catch her.

Suddenly, steps echoed throughout the hall and Grace looked up to see the Earl of Wiltshire, Thomas Boleyn, tracking dirt through the castle and onto her recently cleaned floors. He stared at her with distain before stopping in front of her.

"Where is Lady Mary?" Boleyn questioned, his tone filled with impatience.

Grace rose from her position off the floor, brushing off her knees before addressing the Earl. "Princess Mary is in her rooms," she spoke boldly, glaring at him defiantly. Before he could say a word, a maid entered the hall. He demanded her to take him to Mary and he disappeared from view, sending one last hard look at Grace.

Leading Boleyn into a receiving room, the maid went to retrieve Mary from her chambers. Returning with Mary, she left her mistress with Boleyn so they could speak privately. Not trusting Boleyn, Grace stood by the door listening, ready to enter if he distressed her lady in any way.

"Sir," Mary said as she bowed, more out of formality than respect.

"Lady Mary," Mary's eyes narrowed at Boleyn's words as he spoke, "I have come to inform you of the judgements made recently by His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury. His Majesty's marriage to your mother has been declared null and void. Your mother was never legally Queen of England and must now accept the title of Dowager Princess. Just as you no longer have the right to call yourself princess." He paused for a moment, watching Mary's sour expression with content. "From now on must be known to all as Lady Mary. At the same time his Majesty's recent marriage to Queen Anne has been declared legal and valid. Her coronation took place in London this past week."

"I know of no Queen of England save my mother," Mary responds, her voice unwavering. She would not cower in fear at his words. "And I will accept no other queen except my mother."

"In which case, I have to tell you that you are forbidden to communicate in any way with your mother from this day forward." Boleyn was quite harsh in his tone.

"May I not even write to her?" Mary questions. Her face is pleading. She could not bear to be without her mother.

"Not even a farewell note considering your intransigence," Boleyn says with enjoyment. He feels no pity for the once princess. "There is another thing. Your household is to be disbanded once the king's son is born and the Duke of Warwick's daughter is to be a lady to the new Queen as befits her station. She should not have to serve the bastard daughter of a king. Meanwhile you will serve the young prince."

"How dare you treat her with such disrespect!" Grace exclaims as she enters the room. She is fuming with anger. Mary was and always would be a Princess of England.

"And who are you to speak to me. I should have you flogged for your outburst," Boleyn asks, eyeing her.

"I am the Duke of Warwick's daughter," Grace spoke proudly.

Boleyn's demeanor immediately changed. "Lady Neville," he spoke, "you are to leave this household immediately. It is a great honor to be offered such a position"

"If my father has not ordered it, I will not go," Grace retorts back.

"If you were my daughter…" Boleyn grits threw his teeth.

"Well praise God I'm not. I will not leave Princess Mary until my father tells me to." Grace emphasized the word Princess, making Boleyn even angrier at such disrespect. He left abruptly, brushing past Grace and slamming the door behind him loudly.

"Grace," Mary muttered, shocked at such behavior.

"Do not let anyone treat you so, Mary. You are a Princess of England and deserve the respect your birth entitled you too. I will write to my father immediately." Mary nodded her head at her friend while sadness consumed her. Seeing the look on her face, Grace approaches Mary and grabs her hands. "I promise Mary, my father will help you." Though a tear falls down Mary's face, she shows a small smile of thanks to Grace. Her world was crashing around her, yet she knew the Duke of Warwick would not let her fade into nothingness.

* * *

 _ **Huntingdonshire July 1533**_

Queen Katherine was growing sicklier by the month. She sat in front of the fire of her decrepit manor, staring into the flames. Her once auburn hair was now dark brown and filled with white strands. Her shining blue eyes were now tired. Her body was exhausted. She hadn't even been able to change from her nightgown this morning, tucked into her chaise with many fur blankets though it was July. Her lady, Elizabeth, then enters the room, Thomas More and Grace behind her.

"Sir Thomas More and the Lady Grace Neville, my lady," Elizabeth announces.

Katherine looks up with surprise. "Sir Thomas. Lady Neville, I have not seen you since you were placed with Mary's household. How much you've grown and how much you look like my dear Elise."

"Majesty," both More and Grace reply, bowing in respect. More reaches out to take Katherine's outstretched hand and kisses it before the Queen gives them permission to sit.

"Forgive me for receiving you like this but I do not feel well," Katherine relays.

"What you suffer is known to a great many people, both here and abroad. As is the injustice of it, as well as the grace with which you endure it," More responds with sympathy for her majesty.

"Now it seems…I must cease to call myself queen even though I was crowned so and anointed." More looks uneasy at her words. He hopes the queen has not lost hope. "They say that if I refuse the king will withdraw his fatherly love for my daughter." More has a look of disappointment on his face while Grace's face shows disbelief. She could not imagine a life without her father's love. " I shall not yield neither for my daughter's sake or anyone else's. Not for a thousand deaths would I consent to damn my soul or that of my husband the king." Katherine's voice is now determined. She looks to More and Grace, remembering herself. "Please forgive me again, Sir Thomas and Lady Neville. I am not very used to visitors anymore." Both Grace and More smile at the queen's formalities. "They are mostly forbidden me. How did you get permission?" she questions.

"I wrote to Mr. Cromwell personally," More says. "I brought Grace along unbeknownst to the king and Cromwell."

"Then you are a brave man. And Grace…you are a very strong woman for bringing yourself here."

"I would be a coward to do otherwise. I cannot pretend to be detached from these events." More looks around to make sure Lady Elizabeth or others are not around. Leaning forward he whispers to the queen, "I've been encouraging your supporters in Parliament and elsewhere, to speak their minds and stand up for you." A hint of resolve is in his voice. He turns to Grace expectantly.

"Majesty," Grace says, pulling a letter from her cloak, "Princess Mary asked me to give this to you. She misses you dearly. I was forced to leave her a few weeks ago, against my will. I will do anything to return to her."

"Thank you. Sir Thomas and Lady Neville, thank you." The Queen begins to cry out of hope for with her supporters she knows the king cannot erase her from his mind or the minds of the people.

"Majesty." More goes to leave, Grace trailing behind him hesitantly. She only leaves once the queen sends her a soft smile.

* * *

 _ **Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, September 7**_ _ **th**_ _ **1533**_

"What's this?" Henry questions as he and Cromwell are looking over documents in his study. Cromwell hands him a sealed scroll.

"The final decision of the curia in Rome," Cromwell responds hesitantly, watching the king for a reaction.

Henry breaks open the seal and unravels the document. His face studies the paper, turning sour when he sees the pope's decision. "They have found for Catherine. They declare my new marriage invalid and any children produced from it, illegitimate. The pope threatens to excommunicate me if I do not return to Katherine. He's too late," Henry declares, and he rips the document. That signals the end of the discussion and Cromwell says no more.

Meanwhile, in Anne's chambers chaos has arrived. She had gone into labor and several ladies hovered around her as she screamed in pain. "Hold on, hold on," her ladies say as they encourage her to be strong and bare the pain. One lady wipes her forehead with a cool cloth. Anne continues to pant and yell. "Here it comes," Mary, Anne's sister, mutters as she holds her sister's hand.

"It's here, Anne. It's here," Mary continues. Anne's legs are pulled up as she pushes and she screams as gives one last push. "Push, push," Mary and the other ladies encourage. The baby emerges from between Anne's legs and a midwife takes the infant to be cleaned. Anne looks anxiously at the babe. No one says anything.

"What is it? What's happened?" Anne questions worriedly.

"Nothing. Nothing," Mary continues, dreading that she has to tell her sister the news. "Your Majesty has given birth to a very healthy baby girl." Anne's face drops and she begins to sob. Her duty has not been fulfilled and she cries in horror. Mary kisses her sister's forehead comfortingly, but she knows it will do no good. Anne's position is not secure and the whole room knows it.

* * *

 _ **Warwick Castle 8th September 1533**_

"It's a girl," More says as he bursts into the family area of the Neville's fortress suddenly, the doors banging against the wall from the force of More's strength. The movement scares Grace and her sisters-in-law who had been knitting by the fire. Her father and brothers all turn their heads to More, their eyes wide. Richard nods towards the women and they all rise to leave the room, all except Grace. She keeps her ground and stays sitting. Richard does nothing. His daughter had the right to be there. After all, Mary's position was affected by this news.

'How did the king react," Richard questions his brother-in-law. More had been delivered the news by Chapuys himself who immediately departed from Greenwich after the announcement had been made.

More makes his way towards Richard, kissing his niece's forehead as he goes to sit next her. "Disappointed to say the least. Anne's position is in danger now. Everyone knows it. She said she would deliver a son, but instead she gives the king a daughter. Nothing is wrong with having a daughter unless you're the wife of a king."

"I'm guessing the king will invite us to the baptism of the child." Richard says. He pours a chalice of wine for More, handing it to his eldest son to give to his uncle.

"Yes, and I may have to attend as well to keep up with appearances. Her name is Elizabeth, after the king's mother," More reveals, taking a sip from the chalice.

"And she is completely healthy?" Grace asks.

More nods. "Perfectly, which makes the king more upset."

"It shouldn't matter if the child's a boy or girl. The king should be equally happy," Grace utters, a look of annoyance on her face.

"I agree Grace, but I'm not the king," More replies to his niece. "But, without a son the king looks weak and his thinks he has no heir to pass his kingdom to."

"I know that, but it seems silly. Look at Eleanor of Aquitaine or Isabella of Castile. They were both female rulers of their domain and two of the greatest as you have said uncle." Grace huffs in irritation as she stares at the ground. Men were so frustrating to her. Her father had taught her not to be ruled by her gender. She was just as smart, just as strong, just as capable as any other man.

"True, but some people don't agree with me," More says, lifting Grace's chin up so she would look him in the eye. "Why don't you leave me with your father and brothers? We need to discuss some matters in private."

Though Grace did not want to leave, she obeyed her uncle's orders. Kissing More and her father on their cheeks, she left the men to discuss their business, not realizing it revolved around her.

* * *

 _ **The Church of Franciscan Friars, Greenwich, 10 September 1533**_

The Abbey was filled with a plethora of courtiers as Elizabeth would be baptized and her title as Princess of England confirmed. Warwick and his children were all present for the baptism as the king expected their attendance. However, More was not present. He was making a stand against the king though not out of spite but because his conscience ruled him so.

The Duke and his family sat at the head of the Abbey, ready for the ceremony to begin. The Duke of Suffolk and his wife were next to them, watching the Boleyns with disgust. Lord Wiltshire and his son stood next to Archbishop Cranmer, awaiting the arrival of Princess Elizabeth who would be escorted into the abbey by Mary Boleyn, her aunt, as well as the ladies assigned to Elizabeth. The Marquess of Exeter, the Duchess of Norfolk and the Dowager Marchioness of Dorset, her godparents, would be at the front of the abbey while other courtiers that would be carrying a canopy above the princess.

Suddenly, the Lady Bryan entered the abbey, the newly made Lady Mary trailing behind her. She no longer looked like the princess she was. The dress was black and looked in dire need of mending. No one had cared for Mary since Anne was made queen and it showed. Grace spotted her friend immediately, rushing from her father's side to meet her friend. The two embraced and though Lady Bryan looked appalled, Grace did not care. She stood with her friend at the back of the abbey as the ceremony began, glaring at anyone who glanced their way. The Boleyns were furious at such a sight, the daughter of a duke with Plantagenet blood in her veins was standing with the newly delegitimized daughter of the king.

As the ceremony ended and the courtiers made their way to the queen's chambers, the Duke of Warwick stayed behind while he urged his sons to move on with the crowd. Now that the ceremony was over, Mary would be taken to Hatfield where she would serve Elizabeth, indicating her diminished status. However, the duke motioned for Lady Bryan to let the two friends speak for a moment. Hushed words were spoken between the two friends and a secret letter was given to Mary and she tucked it safely into the folds of her dress where no one would see. Their conversation over, the pair hugged each other one more time and Mary was taken by Lady Bryan to a carriage that would take her to Hatfield. It was shabby and was unnoticeable so that no English people would know it was the daughter of Katherine of Aragon.

Entering the carriage, Mary sent one last look at Grace who was trying not to cry at her friend's departure. Warwick came up behind his daughter and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I promise you will not be separated from her long," Richard promised his daughter. Grace laid her hand on her father's and squeezed it gently, hoping he was right. While Grace thought of her friend, Richard thought of what he must tell his daughter. It was evident that Grace would need to be pushed into the king's way. Sooner or later, her life would intertwine with Henry's and Anne's whether she liked it or not.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to all my new favs/followers: anime-aquarion-fan, 10868letsgo, EnglishKitsune, charista, 19baby94, aniaco, insha-la, HPuni101, Zoie10135, RiverDragon203, svls1234, lili316, SongsofSiren, PetiteSouris1199, Arianna Le Fay, ashes9492, autumnfall1989, CelticWitch18, littledoodle, stilestark, kvdsouza, and snoowbunnie.**

* * *

 **Ch. 4**

 _ **A man's character is his fate.**_

 _ **~Heraclitus**_

 _ **What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.**_

 _ **~Geoffrey Chaucer**_

 _ **I am the king's loyal subject. I say no harm I think no harm, but I wish everybody good. And if this be not enough to keep a man alive in good faith I long not to live.**_

 _ **~Sir Thomas More, The Tudors**_

* * *

 _ **Crosby Hall 27 September 1533**_

Sir Thomas More opened the doors to the entering chambers of his house, a maid answering the door in front of him. Bishop Tunstall appeared, surprising More. He had not seen the bishop for some time, not since the official vote to place the king as the head of the church.

"Bishop Tunstall," More says, bowing to his grace as the maid hung up the bishop's purple cloak.

"Sir Thomas," Tunstall says, returning the formalities.

"Please." More motions for the bishop to sit at his dining table which is covered in books and papers.

"Thank you."

"To what do I owe this honor?" More is skeptical of the bishop's visit, his eyebrows raising up in curiosity.

"We have known each other a long time, Sir Thomas. Now you've retired from public life and I never see you." Tunstall chuckles at his words, but More does not buy his act entirely. He knows something must have caused the bishop to visit him. "Naturally, I was concerned about your welfare," Tunstall continues.

"I am very well, thank you." More goes to sit across from Tunstall, sighing as he does so. "But I am I am exercised by the fact that one of our old acquaintances is still under house arrest." More throws the bait and Tunstall takes it.

"You mean Bishop Fisher? Yes, the outcome is regrettable." Tunstall's voice is sincere, but the transgression in unknown to More.

"The outcome of what?" More questions.

"His intransigence." Tunstall is aggressive in his tone, leaning forward to emphasize his meaning.

"I see." More nods his head. "Tell me has the king sent you here to see me?" More knows this could be the only possible reason why Tunstall is there.

"His Majesty wondered why you did not attend the queen's coronation as you were invited to do." Tunstall finally admits the purpose of his visit. He can see a movement behind More's head and Grace sticks her head out behind an archway as she looks at the bishop curiously.

"Well, in answer to that, let me Let me show my poor mind to you," More responds, not realizing his niece was present. Tunstall goes to say that Grace was present but is cut off by More's story. "There's a story about the Emperor Tiberius. He had enacted a law, which exacted death for a certain crime unless the offender was a virgin." Tunstall leans back in his chair, not minding Grace as his listens to More's story. Her uncle would deal with her later. "Now, when a virgin eventually appeared on the charge the emperor didn't know exactly how to proceed. So, one of his council proposed the perfect solution: Let her first be deflowered so she then can be devoured." Tunstall is in shock at More using such a gruesome story. "There are some and, no, I won't name them who first procure you for the coronation, next to preach at it, and then to write books defending it. Thus, they deflower you, and will not fail soon afterwards to devour you. But they shall never deflower me." More's voice is resolute in his statement as he locks eyes with Tunstall. He turns his head to the side for a moment, knowing Grace was there as he had seen her from the corner of his eye. She does not move from her spot, but comes forward bravely, bowing to the bishop. "Grace, would you please get the bishop some ale before he departs back to his bishopric?" he asks politely. Grace nods, following her uncle's orders, and disappearing from the room. "My niece, always the curious one," More chuckles. "Now Bishop Tunstall, the king must be waiting for my reaction to your visit. I suggest you leave now so as to deliver my answer sooner rather than later."

Bishop Tunstall is appalled at More's behavior, sputtering for a moment and then rising from his chair as quickly as his old bones would let him so as to leave the manor. He leaves the room, More hearing a maid open the door for and behind the bishop as he leaves. Grace then enters the room, no ale in her hands at all. She knew the bishop would not be staying for refreshments. "It would be wise for you not to be seen or heard Grace. Eavesdropping is not an admired trait in a woman," More scolds jokingly. Grace sends a sly smirk at her uncle.

"You were right to answer him the way you did uncle. Tiberius is an excellent example, though I might have said Nero for the king is fiddling while England burns." More is impressed with his niece, but her words sent a shiver down his spine. The king was turning into a Roman dictator whether he realized it or not.

* * *

 _ **Palace of Placentia October 1533**_

Queen Anne and her ladies sit in the queen's chambers admiring the little princess. Mary, Anne's sister, lifts her from a basinet, cooing at her niece. The other ladies laugh in delight at the princess' actions, but then the princess begins to cry.

"She's hungry," Anne says, rocking her daughter in her arms after Mary had given the baby to her. No one notices the king watching them, smiling at the scene. However, Anne goes to reach for her dress, but the king stops her, interrupting the moment.

"What are you doing?" Henry asks, surprising the women.

"Your Majesty," all of Anne's ladies say, bowing to their king.

"May I not feed her from my own breast?" Anne questions, wanting to feed her daughter.

The king makes a clicking sound with his tongue in a scolding manner. "Queens don't do that, especially not for a daughter. Give her back to her wet nurse." Henry steps forward, reaching for his infant daughter. He holds his daughter expertly and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "The princess will shortly be given her own establishment at Hatfield. Among others, the Lady Mary will attend and wait on her."

"Katherine's daughter?" Anne questions delicately, not wanting to upset the king with her skepticism on the matter.

"Yes. It is well that she knows her new place." Henry reaches his hands out for Anne, taking her hands in his. "Secretary Cromwell is arranging it. He will also send a letter to the Duke of Warwick about his daughter being her head lady-in-waiting with your aunt Lady Shelton and Lady Bryan as her main caretakers."

"I will still give you a son," Anne says determinedly. She leans forward and presses sensuous kisses on the king's cheek and corners of his mouth. "Come soon, my darling, to my hot bed."

"Ladies," the king says politely as he steps back from Anne and begins to leave her chambers. Anne sees his eyes flicker to Lady Eleanor Luke, one of her ladies.

"Majesty." The woman all bow as the king leaves, Anne sending a sharp look towards Lady Eleanor. She would get rid of the lady somehow. Her place would not be threatened by some immoral wench.

* * *

 _ **Hatfield House, Hertfordshire, 20 October 1533**_

Mary enters Hatfield silently, her eyes held to the ground as she walks forward. She is not a princess here, just a lady. The servants may still bow, but only because she was the daughter of the king. She wished Grace was with her, but Warwick refused Cromwell's offer under the pretense that Grace had a weak constitution and was always sick. It was a lie, but Cromwell did not know the girl nor did anyone at court. She was kept away from the English court, growing up in France before becoming a lady to Mary who resided at Ludlow and rarely traveled to court. And now, Mary and Grace were separated. Another lady led Mary into the inner chamber of the house. "The Lady Mary, Lady Bryan."

"Lady Mary." Lady Bryan waves her forward with her hand and begins walking through the rooms of the manor. "Welcome to Hatfield, your new home. I am Lady Margaret Bryan, the princess's governess. These other ladies are also here to attend the princess as, of course, are you. Lady Mary, may I present you to Her Highness the Princess Elizabeth." Mary stares at her new half-sister, neither glaring nor smiling. She was indifferent. It was not the baby's fault that she had been displaced. The wet nurse rocks Elizabeth in her arms, sending a not so kind look at Mary. She ignores it, instead looking to Lady Bryan. "You will be shown to your room. You will begin your duties in the mornings, after prayers."

"I shall say my prayers alone," Mary says stubbornly as Lady Bryan walks away to discuss matters with the steward and other members of the household.

"This is your room, milady," one of ladies-in-waiting says, showing Mary a small room with a window and a bed. No other furniture was in the room. Mary walks around the confines of the room, taking in her surroundings. She was reduced to nothing in her eyes and it hit her immediately as she practically collapse onto the bed in a heap, warm tears dripping down her face. This was her reality now and Grace was no longer there to protect her.

* * *

 _ **Hatfield 13 December 1533**_

The Duke of Warwick had been able to get permission from Cromwell for Grace to visit Mary, though under supervision by Lady Bryan. Mary was relieved, having been separated from her friend for almost six months. Having traveled from Warwick Castle, Grace was allowed to stay with Mary for no more than three days, as Cromwell had dictated. He saw no threat from the Nevilles, all having signed the Oath of Supremacy and Succession, but he did not wish to test the king. Instead of reveling Warwick's true purpose of his letter, Cromwell had said that Grace wished to visit the Princess since she would have been her lady-in-waiting and therefore, she wished to pay her respects. The king had agreed, barely listening as he dealt with matters of state.

The girls were currently walking in the gardens of Hatfield, one of the maids walking behind them so as to supervise their actions. It was unusually warm for November, both having discarded their cloaks to soak in the sunshine. Both girls wore dresses of dark color, Mary's being her daily black dress while Grace wore one of maroon, and they also both wore golden crosses around their neck. They were walking arm-in-arm, giggling as they spoke in hushed whispers and continued looking behind them at the maid who was doing anything, but paying attention to them. She wasn't the brightest of girls, that much was evident by the way she stared at everything like a child. It was a miracle how she had been able to keep her job for this long, but she only was a maid. She could be replaced as easily as she had been hired.

Waiting for the right moment, the girls darted off down the path and out of sight of the maid. They laughed at their antics, being carefree for the first time in a while. However, Mary became silent when they entered the courtyard. Three horses were being watered, one of them wearing the insignia of the king. Mary felt her throat tighten in anguish. Her father was here, the man had she hadn't seen nor heard from for years.

Grace noticed her friend's change in attitude, spotting the problem immediately. "Come," she urges her friend, let's go inside." Mary nodded, comforted by the presence of her friend. They entered the manor quietly, tiptoeing so no one could hear them. The noise of voices reached their ears, the king speaking to Lady Bryan about the princess' care. Grace took ahold of her friend's hand, leading Mary away from the princess' chambers and towards her temporary ones. Though Grace's room did not have a window that showed the courtyard, a set of doors opposite her room led onto a balcony overlooking the courtyard.

For some reason, Mary felt pulled to step out onto the balcony. Coincidently, the king was just leaving Hatfield, making his way back towards London after his hunting trip.

Walking towards his horse, Henry felt as if someone was watching him. He halted, seeing a figure on the balcony out of the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing his pearl Mary standing there, unsure of what to do. She fidgeted with her hands and her eyes kept going back and forth between him and the ground on which she stood. A girl stood behind her, though he had no clue who she was. Her eyes haunted him, the way they held a fiery glare, but also a look of pity.

Henry turned his attention back to Mary, bowing as protocol dictated. Mary did the same, bowing shakily while the girl behind her never took her eyes off Henry as she bowed shallowly, her knees barely moving and her eyes fierce. She clearly held little respect for him, that was for sure. Henry paid no mind to it though, walking towards his horse and mounting. He sent Mary one last look, seeing the girl behind her grasping her hand in a comforting manner. Even though he acted like he didn't care, Henry was pleased to know his pearl had a friend, a very powerful friend at that matter; but, he did not know who this mysterious girl was. He would find out, sooner or later.

* * *

 _ **Hatfield 20 January 1534**_

Anne had been able to escape court for some time with her daughter, having just announced to court and Henry that she was again pregnant. She held her daughter in a motherly manner, pressing small kisses to her cheeks and forehead. Her ladies cooed at the princess. She was a joyful child, always giggling and never crying.

Handing her over to the wet-nurse, Anne spoke to the Lady Bryan. "Before I leave, I wish to say something to the Lady Mary." Lady Bryan was taken aback for a moment before motioning for a maid to retrieve Mary from her rooms. Mary entered the princess' chambers, bowing out of duty rather than respect. Anne came forward, speaking, "Lady Mary, I am here in kindness. I would welcome you back to court and reconcile you with your father if you will only accept me as queen." Anne was sincere in her words, though what she desired most was to be recognized as queen by Mary. This would give her complete power if the daughter of Katherine conceded to her request. However, Mary's stubbornness won.

"I recognize no queen but my mother. But if the king's mistress would intercede with the king on my behalf then I would be grateful." Mary was passive aggressive in her voice, waiting for the so-called queen to react. Anne's body went stiff and her eyes narrowed before she sent a look at Mary to leave. Mockingly, Mary bowed before returning to her rooms. The late princess would be harder to control than Anne had thought.

* * *

 _ **Raby Castle 18 February 1534**_

"She's beautiful," Grace remarks as she stares down at her new baby niece. Her brother Christian's wife, Mary, had just given birth to their third daughter, Eleanor. Their elder two daughters, Christina who was almost three and Elizabeth who was barely a year old, sat beside their mother. Christina sat curiously at her mother's side, giggling at the baby whilst Elizabeth did not understand what the big fuss was about. Grace was also rejoicing for Mary's birthday was today as well. Though they were separated, the birth of her niece made her believe something good was to happen for Mary.

Christian was beaming with delight. He was the third son, so he did not have to worry as much about an heir to the dukedom as his elder brother did. He loved his girls and would not trade them for sons. They were his pride and joy. The other members of the Neville family were also in the room, admiring the sight of the little family. Richard and his wife, Anne, along with their three sons were present. The boys showed little interest in their cousins, wanting to be out riding rather than being stuck inside. Anne held their youngest son in her arms, him being just a little over a month older than his cousin. Arthur also showed the same interest, though he held his tongue and stood silently while his nephews fidgeted from being still for too long.

Sir Thomas More was also present, chatting quietly with Warwick and his middle son John, who all were discussing Grace at the moment. Now was the time to tell her the plan, to inform her of what she must do. The queen was again pregnant, meaning the king's eye would begin to wander and hopefully, his eye would land on Grace.

"Grace," Warwick says to his daughter, "let's go to my study with your uncle. We need to discuss something." Grace nodded her head but was confused why her father was dragging her away from the special scene in front of her. They made their way to the study, all eyes following after them. They all knew what was to happen, but they didn't have the heart to warn Grace. They were ashamed of what their father and uncle would ask her. But, his holiness the pope would be forever grateful as would the emperor. Ambassador Chapuys had already garnered the support of Katherine for a such a plan, the abandoned queen giving her blessing and forgiveness.

"What is it, father?" Grace questions as they arrive at her father's study. Richard sends a grim look toward his brother-in-law, dreading telling Grace what was to happen. Noticing his disposition, Grace's demeanor changed immediately, her cheery face turning serious. "What is it?" she continued, waiting impatiently for her father's answer. She turned to her uncle, but he wouldn't look her in the eye, confirming Grace's suspicion.

"Since the birth of the new princess, the king and queen have been trying to extend positions to you in the princess' establishment at Hatfield. I declined those offers, saying you were sickly and that it would not benefit the princess. The queen has also asked that you be one of her ladies since some of them have been dismissed for misconduct. I also declined the offer with the same reason, but now the queen is pregnant and perhaps it would be wise to accept her offer," Richard relays to his daughter. Grace looks at him skeptically, wondering where her father was going with this.

"And why would the queen's pregnancy have anything to do with accepting the position?" Grace questions. More steps forward, thinking it wise that her continue the discussion.

"Because the king's eye is sure to wander while the queen is pregnant." More's words are sharp and to the point.

Grace's eyes light up in understand and she begins to shake her head fervently. "No," she replies angrily and stubbornly, "I won't do it. You can't make me."

More steps forward, grasping his niece's hands in his own. "You must understand why we are doing this Gracie. You must put yourself in his way and bring him back to the Catholic faith."

"And sacrifice my purity for him?" Grace retorts, her face turning red and her hands bunching up into tight fists.

"Queen Katherine has given her permission as has the emperor and the Pope. Ambassador Chapuys has told me all will be forgiven. You will be admired my dear and will be given the highest honors for your efforts," More says to his niece, trying to calm her temper.

"Even if God himself asked me, I still wouldn't do it," Grace replies defiantly. She hastens out of the room and slams the door behind her. Richard exhales in frustration, shaking his head at his retreating daughter.

"Don't worry," More mutters. "She will forgive you for asking. It's whether she will listen or not that needs to be worried about."

"It's too much to ask of her," Richard responds. "She will only resist."

"Perhaps it will be her stubbornness that will catch his eye," More says thoughtfully. "Maybe Grace's resistance to the king will be all we need."

"How?" Richard asks.

"What the king does not have he will do anything to get." The conversation ends with those words, both men knowing that if Grace will not agree to the plan that maybe the king's eye would fall on her without their efforts. After all, the king loved a challenge.

* * *

 _ **Crosby Hall 6 April 1534**_

It had been two months since More and Warwick had discussed with Grace the plan to catch the king's attention. She was still angry, only speaking to both men if necessary. She could not believe the nerve of them. Mary would be furious if she knew, but she would forgive Grace.

Grace was currently residing at her uncle's estate, visiting with her cousins. She was walking with Margaret in the gardens that morning, More trailing behind them enjoying the fresh air. He knew not to push Grace. She would talk to him when she was ready.

However, out of nowhere, the king's guards appeared. Margaret and Grace were both frightened, looking to More for an answer. He merely told them to stay where they were and to not interfere. The guards grabbed him harshly and began to push him towards the manor, relaying that he had been called to court for questioning. Grace did not listen, approaching the guards and demanding that they release her uncle. Several of the guards ignored her, others laughed, but one seemed to think that handling Grace roughly would keep her quiet.

The guard grabbed Grace harshly, thinking violence was the answer for the situation. This made Grace cry out in pain and demand that the guard release her. Instead, she was pushed harshly to the ground and she cried out in pain as her shoulder roughly collided with the hard earth. She grasped the sensitive flesh with her hand, whimpering at such treatment. Margaret rushed forward, horrified at the sight as she wrapped her arms around her cousin.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" More shouted angrily, struggling against the guards that held him as he tried to go to his niece. "That is the Duke of Warwick's daughter." The guard's pleased expression then turned to realization. His bravado suddenly disappeared as his face turned white. "You will be punished for your irrationality," More continued. "My brother-in-law will make sure of that and to bring the matter up with the king for such mistreatment of a woman and a noble woman at that. You can be sure of that."

More was further dragged down the path of the garden, Margaret and Grace both calling out for him. "No, my darlings, no," he urges them.

"Father," Margaret cries, but More shakes his head. The cousins hold each other, both crying, as they see the most important man in their life be dragged away to his fate.

* * *

 _ **Lambeth Palace 13 April 1534**_

Sir Thomas More had been escorted by guards immediately to the River Thames, a boatman rowing him toward Lambeth Palace in order for him to attend his hearing. It was silent the entire journey there as neither man spoke to each other. More didn't dare abandon the small rowboat for his family would be punished if he did so. The guards had threatened him in this way. Nearing the river entrance to Lambeth, the boat man reached for the wall of the castle, halting the boat in order for More to step off carefully.

More stood, balancing himself as he held onto the wall of the castle. He stepped off the rowboat and onto the hard ground of the castle floor, a guard waiting for his arrival. He made his way up the winding staircase behind the guard who escorted him through the castle until they met a bishop in his red finery. More was then led to a room where Cromwell, Canterbury, and others were waiting. He entered the room with a hint of pride in his step and he met all eyes of the men trying him for his supposed treachery against the king who was nowhere in sight.

More came to a chair which stood at the center of the room, the men trying him sitting at a long table in front of him. The men say nothing, More sitting down in the chair instead of bowing to the clergy members and members of the king's household. He clears his throat and waits for their words.

"Sir Thomas?" the Archbishop of Canterbury asks, "Are you now ready to swear the oath?"

"May I see it?" More question, confusing the clergymen. The archbishop waves a friar forward who hands the document to More. "Thank you," More says. Cromwell looks bored with the proceeding, licking his lips and appearing unamused.

"Well?" Canterbury asks.

More looks thoughtfully at the document as he gives his opinion of it. "I don't mean to put at fault this oath or its makers or any man who swears to it. And I will never condemn the conscience of any other man." Cromwell looks uneasy as he stares at More who continues to deliver his opinion. "But for myself, in good faith my own conscience so moves me that I will swear to the validity of the succession yet not the rest of it without jeopardizing my soul to perpetual damnation." More is absolute in his answer. He truly believes that the rest of the oath is an evil to himself and to his majesty, but that is not what the clergy thinks.

"We are very sorry to hear you say this. You're almost the first to refuse it and your refusal will cause the King's Highness to be both indignant and suspicious of you," Bishop Tunstall says, remembering the conversation he had held with More all those months ago.

"Here are all the members of the Commons and the Lords who have sworn to take the oath. The clergy too," Another clergy member responds, in shock that More would not agree with the men of Christ.

"I myself cannot swear. But I do not blame any other man who has sworn," More folds his hands in his lap as he speaks, his eyes held downward before he looks around the room warily.

"Sir Thomas," the Archbishop responds quite aggressively, "we have come to the conclusion that far from being a true and loyal servant to His Majesty there never was a servant so villainous so traitorous to his prince as you." More glares at Canterbury angrily, scoffing at his words. He was no true servant to his majesty, but to himself and his evil Lutheranism while More always tried to do things as God and his majesty willed.

"If you refuse to take the oath not only will you be imprisoned but the most horrid things imaginable will be done to you," Bishop Tunstall relays, hoping More would submit.

"My lords, these threats are for children, not for me," More mutters, annoyed with their words.

"Do you deny that you bullied and persuaded the king against his conscience, to write this pamphlet against Luther?" More has a glimpse of recognition in his eye as he sees the familiar pamphlet, remembering his meeting with Cromwell who warned him what would occur. He makes eye contact with the man, but Cromwell breaks it.

"Of course, I deny it. In the first place, I would never ask anyone be he ever so high or so low, to act against his conscience. And secondly, I remember it was His Majesty who persuaded me of the paramount importance of the papacy." More speaks clearly and to the point. The actions of the king were now used as a type of weapon against him, seeing that the king had supported his ideas about Lutheranism and More doing the same for the king. He never manipulated his majesty, but instead, the king had sought him out for advice in this great matter.

"I ask you a final time before the awful penalties are exacted upon you why will you not swear?" More stares down at his folded hands as Canterbury speaks. He says nothing and lifts his eyes to look at the men who were his jury as if to say he was ready to embrace anything they would do to him for the sake of Christianity. "Why will you not swear?" Canterbury raises his voice, but More does not budge. He remains silent and would continue to do so as he was locked in the tower and hidden away from the world.

* * *

 _ **Whitehall Palace 27 April 1534**_

The sound of thundering hooves could be heard as several riders were spotted approaching Whitehall. A messenger had been sent ahead to alert the guards and palace servants of his master's arrival since he had not been summoned but was appearing on his own volition. One of the pages alerted Cromwell immediately, entering his office and whispering into the secretary's ear. Other pages looked on in interest but returned to their work with a sharp look from Cromwell. Cromwell was taken aback and unprepared for what he heard, rising from his desk and making his way to the palace gates, the page on his heels.

Cromwell hastened slowly to the gates, making sure no one could see how perturbed he was by this man's arrival. His body language would alert everyone of how agitated he was and so he had to control his emotions carefully, otherwise gossip would occur. Arriving in the courtyard outside the palace, he waited for the uninvited guests to arrive. He could hear the horses nearing, their hooves striking the earth hardly, and then he saw them, each riding a magnificent steed decorated in the Duke of Warwick's finery.

The duke himself entered the courtyard first, Grace holding on to her father as she had sat behind him during the journey. His elder three sons followed, each handling their horses with ease as they pulled the reigns and halted them. The duke circled Cromwell, taunting him as he rode his black stallion. He then halted directly in front of the secretary, staring down at the secretary with such a harsh gaze that Cromwell fidgeted uncomfortably.

Clearing his throat before speaking, Cromwell spoke, "We were not expecting you, your grace."

"Of course, you weren't, but I still expect me and my family to be accommodated after our long journey. I wish to speak to the king immediately about Sir Thomas More's imprisonment." Neville's voice was filled with combination of authority and anger directed at the king for his actions against More.

"My lord, I will see to it the king receives your message and that the servants prepare your rooms as soon as possible." Cromwell bows, showing that he was departing to perform what he had just said.

"Cromwell," Neville says, making the man stop in his tracks and turn around with a questioning look on his face. "I have sent the king letters and he has not responded as you have made clear. I suggest you deliver my message to him yourself." Cromwell nodded to the duke in understanding before returning to what he had been about to do. As he walked further away from the group, Cromwell could only think what would now happen since Warwick had come to More's rescue.

* * *

The Duke of Warwick's rooms had been prepared quite quickly, Cromwell ordering the servants about during the entire process as he feared the duke's wrath. The duke's family arrived at the rooms, tired after their journey. However, they knew there could be no wait for their petition to the king. All changed from their riding clothes to court clothes before departing to the king's presence chamber. Meanwhile, Warwick recommended to his daughter that she should take a walk in the gardens and that he would fetch her after his talk with the king.

Becoming rather bored in the rooms as her father said she would, Grace departed to the palace gardens, bringing her copy of _Utopia_ with her. She was dressed in finery that reflected her status as a duke's daughter, a fine blue dress with silver and white embroidery on the bodice and neckline. On her neck was a simple gold cross and, in her hair, a French hood decorated with pearls was held secure in her hair. As she moved through the palace, she tried to stay unnoticed, but since hers was a new face at court, many people began to ask who the new lady in court was.

After traveling through the many twists and turns of the palace as well as walking down some staircases, Grace was finally in the gardens. Hedges lined the paths as well as the famous roses of the Tudors and Grace enjoyed the pretty sight. She walked for a few minutes, taking in the fresh air and delighted with the beautiful landscape of the gardens. Coming to a fountain in the middle of the garden, Grace sat down on the edge, opened her book, and began to read. The sun was warm on her face and a light breeze filtered through the air, a perfect spring day.

So immersed in her book, Grace had sat in the garden for hours, already halfway through the book when the hour of dinner was upon her. Still, she did not notice the change in day as she continued to read her book, nor did she notice the sound of footsteps. The king and Suffolk were walking in the gardens, Henry now exhausted from a day's work as he had been stuck in his presence chamber all day. He rubbed his face tiredly. Charles knew all this work as well as More's imprisonment was taking a toll on his body. It was too much work for one man, even a king.

The two men continued walking in silence, the king finally able to relax. Soon Anne would give birth, hopefully to a son and his wait for an heir would be over. Charles hoped for the king's sake that he would see Anne was turning him against his most loyal friend and that even if she did give him a son, that he would return to his old ways.

Coming to an opening in the hedges, the men turned left, the fountain coming into view. Charles spotted Grace, recognizing the duke's daughter immediately. Henry was immersed in his thoughts, looking up from the ground when he caught sight of Grace. He had no clue who she was, but judging by her clothing, he knew her to be the daughter of one of his nobles. Unlike most women of the court, this lady was reading and had been for quite some time the way she didn't take her eyes from the book. She didn't dress up as gaudy as many of the women did, but simple and regal as Anne did.

Both men halted, thinking it unwise to startle the lady. Grace had already hurt the crunch f gravel under their feet and looked up from her book because of the noise. No one was in front of her, a confused look appearing on her face. She then turned to look behind her, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the king and the Duke of Suffolk. She rose from her sitting position quickly, turning her body and curtsying to both men. Her book fell to the ground forgotten, sitting in the dirt because of her carelessness. She held the position for a few moments, her eyes glued to the fountain. However, when Suffolk started towards her to raise her from her curtsy and inquire why she was alone, a voice called to her over the hedges. She turned her head towards the voice, relieved that she had been freed from the awkward position.

"Grace, where are you darling?" It was the duke searching for his daughter. Saved from the encounter, Grace hurriedly made her way to her father, forgetting her book in her haste. She sent one last look towards the pair of great men before disappearing behind one of the hedges. Her book had been completely forgotten in her haste, the king noticing it lying open on the dirt. He picked up the object from the ground, closing it to see the title _Utopia_ upon the front of the book. The title glared up at him mockingly, reminding him of his imprisoned friend.

Opening the book to the front page, Henry came to see a note inscribed on the inside cover dated 1524. It read:

 _To my dear niece, Grace Neville, daughter of Richard Neville of Warwick and Anne More, in honor of her tenth birthday. May your days be filled with wonder and your help for the world never fade. Your hope for a perfect world has always inspired me and I hope you may see it come true with your efforts._

 _With Love,_

 _Uncle Thomas_

Henry stared at the note in shock, rereading the note over and over again. He had now discovered the identity of the mysterious woman. Neville had come to him, petitioning on More's behalf. The king had listened, half interested, half bored and had dismissed Neville upon the notion that perhaps a formal meeting would be better in front of all his courtiers so as to demonstrate his power if anyone crossed him. However, Grace changed everything. Because of this note, Henry's hard interior had cracked, and he began to question why he had imprisoned his friend.

* * *

 _ **30 April 1534**_

Today was the day that the Duke of Warwick and his family would be formally presented to court. Warwick along with his sons Richard, John, and Christian had risen long before Grace had, considering what they would say to the king in front of the entire court. They knew what the king's tactic was, to assert that More was indeed guilty of his actions and those who crossed him, even the most loyal of friends, would be punished. Warwick was nervous, but even more so for Grace who told him of her encounter with the king and Suffolk. The king had her most prized possession and she had forgotten it in her haste to never be near him. She thought him disgusting. She loathed him, hated him. He was more of a tyrant than a monarch to her, more similar to the devil than the right hand of God as she had said in her own words. And she had cried herself to sleep for letting her fear of him forget her book. But her silly girl actions needed to stop. She needed to act like a woman, a Neville, a descendant of Plantagenets.

Approaching the king's throne room, all members of the Neville family walked together in a display of strength and power. Warwick escorted his daughter while his sons followed eldest to youngest. Many courtiers made a path for them as they passed by, in awe of their unity and their forwardness in addressing the king on the matter of More's imprisonment.

Once they made their way to the entrance of the room, a page announced their presence and they walked toward the platform where the king sat on his throne. All courtiers were there, Suffolk and the Boleyns closest to the throne. All of the Nevilles bowed in respect, though Grace had to force herself to perform the action. Her eyes glared hard at the wooden floors as if she wished they would open up and swallow her to prevent her from being there. "Your majesty," Warwick spoke, awaiting the king's next move.

The king said nothing for a few seconds, first analyzing the Neville men. They were young and strong, all viable contenders to his throne. He was envious of Warwick for he had sons, many sons, while the king had a bastard daughter and an infant princess. It was a cruel fate he thought for one of his distant relatives to have everything he wanted, and yet, God did not give him the destiny of becoming king nor did he seek to be in the public eye. His gaze then fell on Grace, the favorite of More as he had deemed from his findings yesterday. Grace could feel the king's eyes on her, but she didn't move or fidget. She held her curtsy perfectly, waiting for the king to motion for all of them to stand and for him to address her father.

As the king looked down on Grace, he remembered the frightened expression she held in her eyes, those hauntingly beautiful green eyes which stared at him with fear as well as a hint of loathing. Why would she not dislike him though? Her uncle was in the tower for God's sake and here she was begging with her family for him to spare More's life. He took in her posture, how stiff and unrelaxed it was. He could tell how hard she was concentrating on the floor patterns. He had done that a many of times when Anne and he argued, and he wished to be gone from that place. She was different from many of the court ladies. She didn't have the typical blond hair, but dark brown like Anne. Some of his courtiers would classify her as exotic because of her darker looks. She was wearing a different dress then what he had seen her in earlier that week. This one was a dark grey, practically black in color. The neckline came to just above her breasts and was decorated with golden pieces. On the bodice of the dress a simple flower had been sewn into the fabric. The underskirt of the dress was black and also decorated with golden stitch-work. Instead of wearing a French hood, a golden headband had been placed on her hair and golden earrings were hanging from her ears. The dress was not extravagant, but simple in taste, much like the one she wore the other day. She was not trying to impress the court at all. She was only there to plead for her uncle's life.

The king made a motion for all of the Nevilles to stand but shocked everyone when he conversed with Grace first. "Lady Neville," the king spoke, "This is your first time at court, yes? How do you like it so far?"

Grace looked to her father for guidance and he nodded to her, giving her permission to answer the king. She was hesitant in her answer and she did not make eye contact when she answered the king's question. "It is hard to give your majesty a complete answer since I have only seen the gardens and the confines of my chambers. I have not fully experienced your majesty's court, but I am sure the longer I am here, the more clear of an answer I will be able to give to your majesty."

"Well said," the king responds, now turning to Warwick and taking the attention off of Grace. She lets out a sigh of relief. "Warwick, I have listened to your petition, but I am under the pretense that Sir Thomas will not answer any of my advisors nor will he speak to Cromwell about my policies. I cannot release him until he accepts the oath and confirms me to be the head of the Church of England. If he defies me, then that will influence my more rebellious subjects to also refuse the oath and deny my supremacy."

"I understand what your majesty has said, but if you will let him speak to you…." Warwick is interrupted by the king as he tries to persuade the king.

Henry rises from his throne, his voice deeper and threatening as he speaks. Warwick has angered the king as Henry practically yells, "I will not speak to him until he takes the oath!" All shrink back from the king, all witnesses to the famous Tudor temper. Grace flinches, appalled at the behavior of the king. It seemed fear was the only tactic that was successful in gaining power over his courtiers.

Warwick apologizes immediately, trying to make up for his harmless actions. "Forgive me if I speak out of turn your majesty. I meant no disrespect." His tone is sincere and as Henry looks at him, he only sees a man speaking genuinely from his heart. He does not seek to gain anything, but More's survival. However, it irritates Henry that a man this high in status is being seen by his courtiers as a man doing the just thing while the king is ridiculed for his actions.

"Of course not Warwick. You of all people know not to disrespect me. But, do you know how More disrespects me? How he still does so while he sits in that damned tower praying and reading his books?" Henry steps off the platform and steps directly in front of Warwick, practically in the man's face as he speaks in a dark tone.

"His conscience," Grace mutters without even realizing it. All eyes turn to her and she blushes at being heard. Many may think it was her speaking out of turn, but Warwick knew his daughter was just speaking her mind out loud, a flaw she needed to learn to control. He grimaces when he hears her words loud and clear. Now the king's anger would be directed at her.

"And what do you know of his conscience, Lady Neville?" the king questions as he steps toward Grace. Grace gulps inaudibly, nervous at being so close to such a dangerous and powerful man who was currently enraged. "I…I…" she stutters for just a moment but regains her confidence. "I know he's ruled by it. I know his conscience dictates his actions and are influenced by our lord. But, your majesty you must understand that my uncle is loyal to you above all else. I would say that he loves your majesty more than God, but that is a sin for our savior should come first in our hearts." She halts her words, daring to look up at the king's expression. He looks taken by surprise at such an answer and gives Grace the push to finish. She lowers herself to her knees in a subservient manner and pleads," I beseech you your majesty. Please speak to my uncle. Please spare his life and if you must take a life, take mine for I am insignificant compared to my uncle."

Many gasps are heard in the throne room, the loudest one from Lord Wiltshire, Anne's father. "Grace," Warwick hisses in warning at his daughter, yanking her to her feet and thrusting her towards her eldest brother who takes hold of her tightly. Grace stares at her feet in embarrassment, knowing her father would reprimand her for her irrationality later. "Your majesty, please forgive my daughter's outburst. She is overcome with emotion at her uncle's imprisonment." Grace stares at her father's back, furious that he would compare her to one those silly ninny girls at court that cry at the littlest thing. The king notices her demeanor immediately and lets out a slight chuckle. The court is confused for a moment and all let out laughs as well to go along with the king.

"There is nothing to forgive Lord Warwick. You may go now. I will consider what you have said." Warwick nods to the king and bows as the other members of his family do. He grabs Grace from Richard's arm and they all back away as no one is allowed to turn their backs on the king. They turn and proceed, to their rooms, Grace now awaiting a verbal lashing form her father. Meanwhile, the king reclines back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. The Boleyn's notice immediately, worried. The king has the same expression on his face when he met Anne and Boleyn does not like it at all.

* * *

 _ **5 May 1534  
**_ For the past five days, all anyone could talk about was Grace Neville and her family's appearance at court. All were amazed at the way a woman spoke to the king and could get away with it with no consequences. In fact, because the king had laughed for some unknown reason, the court saw her presence as interesting in the least. She sure knew how to make an entrance at court, that was for sure.

Grace was currently sitting in her chambers at court doing her needlework, having only left the rooms to take walks in the garden. However, she was always accompanied by one of her brothers. She did not want to have another encounter with the king. Her brothers were enjoying the pastimes of court while her father preferred to remain in the rooms with her. A knock was heard on the door, Warwick saying a simple, "Enter."

Grace looked up from her work to see Suffolk entering and when she looked to her father, his face mirrored her expression of surprise. "My lord, I was not expecting you," Warwick said, rising from his seat.

"Nor did I expect to be here, your Grace," spoke Suffolk as he clasped hands with Warwick. "Lady Grace," Suffolk says, bowing to Grace.

"My lord," Grace responds, returning the formalities by rising from her chair and curtsying. She placed her needlework on the table next to her and clasped her hands in front of her, awaiting her father's orders.

"Tell me Suffolk, why have you come here?" Warwick questions.

"Well my lord, I have a package for your daughter from the king." Warwick raised his eyes at that, looking to Grace for a reaction. Her eyes turned dark and her face had a look of aversion, that is until Suffolk revealed her book. Grace squealed in surprise, taking the book from Suffolk hands quite unladylike and thanking him. Her father sent her a look, reminding her of her manners and her happy display returned to that of a reserved manner with a hint of joy in her eyes.

"Please tell his majesty that I thank him for returning my book. It is my greatest treasure." Suffolk smiled at her words, enjoying the young woman's display of happiness at having a mere book returned to her.

"Yes, please give his majesty my thanks," Warwick speaks, expecting Suffolk to now leave and report back to the king. However, Suffolk made no move to leave and instead pulled a letter and a parcel from inside his coat.

"His majesty also asks me to present you with these, my lady," Suffolk mutters, holding them out for Grace to take. Grace makes no move to take them and instead takes a step back.

"Grace," Warwick says, expecting his daughter to take them. He motions towards the presents of the king, but Grace still makes no move to take them.

Instead Grace replies, "Tell his majesty that I am thankful for these gifts, but I do not deserve nor want them nor his majesty's affections that most would agree come with such things."

"Grace!" Warwick scolds, his voice filled with disbelief at his daughter's behavior.

"No, I will not accept them," Grace says defiantly.

"At least take his letter," Warwick retorts, frustrated with his daughter as Suffolk would tell the king all he had seen.

"Fine," Grace replies, taking the letter from Suffolk's hand and angrily throwing it into the roaring fire behind her. "You can tell his majesty that his letter has been permanently burned into my mind for now I have just seen it consumed by flames, something I enjoyed seeing. And now, the memory of it will delight me for the rest of my time at court." Grace sends a mocking smile at her father, curtsies to Suffolk with a "my lord," and then walks into her own personal room, slamming the door behind her.

Warwick cringes at the sound of the slamming door, now turning to Suffolk. "I suggest you leave my daughter's erratic behavior out of the conversation and not mention that she burned his letter. It would be better not to push at the king's temper, agreed?" Suffolk nods, quite amused by Grace's behavior. She would not be conquered by a king without a fight, that much was certain. As he left Warwick's chambers, bowing to the duke in respect, he knew the king would become frustrated and ultimately give up his quest to win the woman's affections, or would he?

* * *

 _ **Comments?**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! And thank you to my guests for reviewing. Welcome to all my favs/followers and my new ones including: heffy, Izarielle black, federica01, LoyalHistoryBuff, , GoldenKeeper2567, AnaneDivas3581, klove93, superfaraway, waywardlotte, Black Star 145885, Lord Loptr, xenocanaan, Murron Bartlett, S.A. Pendragon, halyyy, wildcat717, elvelover, HPuni, and LoveMcSteamy!**

* * *

 **Ch. 5**

" _ **Tell me, do you prefer your place in this life rather than in heaven?"**_

 _ **~Katherine of Aragon, The Tudors**_

 _ **There is only one woman in the world. One woman, with many faces.**_

 _ **~Nikos Kazantzakis**_

 _ **For what is life but a play in which everyone acts a part until the curtain comes down?**_

 _ **~Erasmus**_

* * *

 _ **Hampton Court July 1534**_

Grace had been at court for more than two months now, her father having been promoted to a member on the privy council and yet, she had not been allowed to see her uncle. No one had. He was forbidden to her as well as every other member of the Neville and More families until he broke down and submitted to the king. The king made no mention of him and every time someone brought him up, they were met with an icy glare from the king. That was a sensitive subject not to be talked about until the king had brought it up again much to the chagrin of Cromwell and the Boleyns.

Another sensitive subject included the queen's recent miscarriage, spurred on by an unknown cause. The queen had been perfectly healthy, and she had been showing off her pregnant belly, so this came as a shock to the king and his court. No public announcement was made, and the king spared the queen humiliation by doing so. However, he now began to doubt his marriage. He loved Anne, that much was sure, but he doubted her advice and her opinion of More, whom she had never held in high favor. Her grip on the king was beginning to loosen and the Boleyns knew it. They would do anything to keep ahold of the king as had been shown by their promoting of their relative Madge Shelton to become the king's mistress. But, even Madge was now sent for less and less. She no longer appeased the king and the Boleyns knew why: Grace Neville.

Grace had been angered by the king's forward notion of presenting her with gifts. She neither wanted the attention nor wished to further his advances towards her. She had thought that with Suffolk reporting her behavior when she received the gifts would be enough, but apparently not. Suffolk had either not mentioned her actions or the king had been amused with them. Either way, she was exasperated as the king had three weeks later sent her gifts, though she had not seen him since the incident in the throne room. Again, she rejected the gifts and since then, nothing had occurred.

The court was being entertained by a garden party that day, the king hoping to lift the spirits of Anne and his court since the loss of the child. Though there was no public announcement, all members of the court knew what had happened and were under the threat of death to not mention the child. The threat was never made, but they knew the consequences of mentioning the child. It was an unspoken rule at court and one all followed or else they would have much to lose.

The king and queen sat on their golden thrones, the main banquet table laid out before them covered with various dishes. In front of the table was a dancing platform, other tables filled with members of the court surrounding it. Princess Elizabeth had been brought to court and Anne cooed at her daughter in a loving manner as the princess tried to talk to her mother. Her father, brother, and uncle sat to her left while the Duke of Suffolk, his wife, and the Duke of Warwick sat to the king's right. Grace and her brothers sat at the table closest to their father, though Grace tried to stay out of the king's sight as much as possible. It was more so she didn't have to see him than the other way around. She despised the man and wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

However, her brother Richard had other plans and was practically dragging her on to the dance floor. Grace struggled to get out of her brother's grip without it seeming like she was causing a scene, but it failed. If she tried to pull her arm away from her brother, all would notice and since he was much stronger than her, she was helpless in his grasp. He twirled her around on the dance floor, beckoning her into his arms. She squirmed, but he held her tighter, forcing her to comply with him and dance.

A simple galliard was struck up by the small orchestra directly next to the dancers and Richard and Grace began to follow the steps of the dance as a couple. They followed each step one by one, leaping and jumping into the air. They then reached the most intimate step, the lavolta in which Richard pulled Grace close and lifted her into the air, making her giggle as he held her up a few seconds longer than the others. "Richard, we're behind a count," she laughed, but her brother just smiled and kept spinning her in the air. This drew the attention of the court who also laughed at the siblings' antics.

The king and queen also laughed at the siblings who were not following the dance, but who kept twirling and spinning as they danced. To Anne, it reminded her of herself and George. However, when she looked over to the king, her dazzling smile turned to a frown as the king's eyes lingered on the girl for too long. Anne did not like it one bit. And when Henry turned his face to Anne and smiled at her and his daughter, Anne hid her emotions and grinned back at him as he took her hand and kissed it as a loving husband would do. He then rose from his seat and went to mingle among the guests, but Anne knew what he was doing. Right up to the moment when he addressed the Duke of Warwick's son, the Earl of Salisbury, and his daughter, Anne knew exactly what was on his mind.

The dance had ended and Henry rose from his chair to converse with his court. However, he only had one target: the Duke of Warwick's daughter it had been over two months since he had really seen her and she had rejected his gifts not once, but twice. He grinned at her behavior towards him. It quite entertained. She was elusive as a fox, Henry only seeing her for a split second at court functions before she entirely disappeared from view. Suffolk would watch her as well, conversing with his wife Catherine on what they saw. They would laugh as Grace tried her hardest to disappear from sight and hide behind other court members so the king would not see her. She often would walk with Catherine in the corridors with Charles as their "chaperone" per say. They were around the same age and bonded over many things girls their age would. After all, Catherine was almost 16 and Grace was 20. They didn't like many of the other ladies because of their lewd behavior so they kept to one another.

Now, both Charles and Catherine watched the king as he mingled with other guests and edged his way towards Grace who was unaware of his actions. Her back was turned to him as Richard had made so, himself seeing the king approaching, but not saying anything to warn his sister. Henry nodded to Richard who bowed at the king. Grace, seeing her brother bowing, glared at him as her nostrils flared and she turned to curtsy to the king. Instead of holding her eyes to the ground, Grace held eye contact with the king as she curtsied. Her eyes cut through him like a knife, those rare haunting green eyes that seemed to reach into Henry's soul and made his guilt intensify until it would eat him away.

"My Lord Salisbury," the king said as he reached forward to pat Richard on the back, "You don't mind if I dance with your sister, do you?" Richard was designated the title Earl as Salisbury since he was the son of the Duke of Warwick. Therefore, the title would pass to his son when he became duke.

"Of course not, your majesty. She's all yours. Grace?" Richard said, as he looked to Grace for an answer herself. Grace gritted her teeth, but smiled politely.

"Yes, your majesty," Grace spoke. The king held his hand out for her to take, but she brushed past it and walked to the center of the dance floor. She knew she was testing the king's patience, but Henry merely chuckled at her actions and walked to where she was standing. He held out his hand again as they faced the front banquet table and Grace had to take it much to her dismay. All eyes were on them, though other dancers filtered across the floor.

The music began, a lively saltarella and Henry led Grace across the dance floor. Anne watched them intently, noticing the fake smile on Grace's face. Other girls would be thrilled to be shown attention by the king, but not Grace who looked as if she wished to be anywhere, but in the king's arms.

"How has your time at court been, my lady, since you've experienced more of it?" Henry questioned, remembering their conversation in the throne room. One hand laid across her waist while the other held her hand as they paraded across the floor. Both faced forward, his front to her back. He held her closer than normal, and she could feel his breath on her neck. She cringed feeling him so near.

"It has been exhausting, my lord. I rather like being in the countryside more than at court." Grace had just insulted the king indirectly and he knew it. He smiled at her words, pulling her closer before he spun her in his arms. Grace had thought he would be angered, but perhaps her words seemed lighthearted to him and filled with girlish anger that was more entertaining than insulting.

"Come now, it can't be that bad my lady. You've only been here for a few months. Perhaps you should join my wife's retinue of ladies. You would enjoy serving her majesty," Henry muttered. "Besides, you reject my company so what's to say you wouldn't embrace my wife's?" Grace's blood turned cold at that comment.

"Your majesty," Grace stuttered, unable to form words in her mouth. She didn't know what to say. Suffolk had told the king after all.

"Suffolk told me in great detail how you reacted to my gifts. Tell me, do you hate me so?" Henry questioned, baiting the girl. She had to watch her words now and he thought it amusing how she was trying to think of what to say, but could not. Several times she went to speak, but bit her cheek when she realized it would probably anger him. Finally, she spoke.

"Your majesty, I do not hate you, but I am upset with the imprisonment of my uncle. He is a good man and has served you for many years." Grace was cautious at first, but then she started down a different route. "And yet, you let your subjects whisper in your ears and poison your thoughts." Henry's grip tightened around her waist, but Grace did not care. She continued her spiel, letting the king know exactly what was on her mind. "Is it a crime to believe that one's conscience towards God is greater than a king's vanity." Those words had done her in for the king's grip tightened further to the point where it was starting to hurt.

Grace dared to look at the king, and she shivered at what she saw. His eyes were sharp and his jaw was clenched, and he was staring directly at her. "I would watch your words, madam. It is not wise to question a king nor doubt his ability to rule." He twirled her again, this time pulling her to where she slammed into his chest before he lifted her up, his grip on her waist unwavering. Grace was frightened by his brute strength which seemed to be focusing on treating her like a rag doll on the dance floor. His temper was beginning to flare. Every which way the king pulled her, Grace followed unwillingly. It would be unwise to pull away from the king at this point or else he would cause a scene in front of the entire court which would lead to the banishment of her family.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace could see her father's worried expression. He knew her tongue would get her in trouble sooner or later and now, she had spoken out of turn to a king. He turned to Suffolk, noticing that the duke also looked anxious. He too had seen the king's anger, though it was masked to where only the closest courtiers to the king could truly see his emotions.

The dance then ended, the king's front pressed against Grace's back as he held her in his arms in the center of the floor. He let go of her abruptly, releasing his steel hard grip on her hand and waist. She sunk into a curtsy immediately though no one else did since they were clapping for the musicians as the king was. As the king stared down at her, his rage began to calm. She knew she had stepped out of line and seeing her shaking form as she curtsied in front of him made him stop before he yelled at her. He reached his hand out for her to take and Grace took it immediately, recognizing the king's rare display of mercy. He nodded to her before releasing her hand and walking off the floor. He tilted his head at Suffolk who rose from his seat to meet the king. The two began talking and walked off into the garden, Suffolk turning around to see Grace's pale complexion and a look of fear in her eyes.

As Grace walked towards her brothers, Suffolk could see them interrogating her, pulling her to the side so no other courtiers could see or hear them. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears and so they started walking towards the castle to prevent an outburst. Warwick was also watching his daughter, bothered by the fact that her words had angered the king and that More would possibly be punished even more. He dared a glance at Boleyn who thankfully, had not seen the scene, but was currently conversing with one of the Italian ambassadors. However, the queen had seen all, her dark eyes following Grace as she removed herself from the garden party. If there's one thing Grace needed to worry about more than the king, it would be the queen's wrath for if she controlled her fate, it would be a swift and sudden fall from favor and her reputation would be ruined.

* * *

Grace had managed to seclude herself from court for a few days, her absence noticed by few. In particular, Warwick and Suffolk had been quite worried over her seclusion, but when she returned to the evening banquets a week after the incident, all seemed forgotten and the two men were relieved that the king's anger had not scared her off. She was stronger than she looked and would not back down from protesting for her uncle's life.

That evening at dinner however, Grace was unusually quiet. She ate her food politely and talked to her brothers and the duke of Suffolk's wife, but she would shy away from others and did not participate in the dances as she previously had. She was cautious in her movements and actions due to her previous encounter with the king who was currently lounging on his throne at the head of the table.

Henry had thought over in his mind a countless number of times Grace's words to him the previous week. She thought him vain and cruel according to her statement. She did not watch herself, but spoke her mind. If it had been anyone else, the king would have lost his temper, but not with her. She was a woman, but the daughter of the Duke of Warwick and a descendant of Edward III. Her lineage was one of royalty and she spoke like a woman of royalty. That was why the king was so in awe of her, because of the way she carried herself and demanded attention from the strongest of men. It enticed him, entertained him, angered him. She was a combination of Katherine and Anne, though she was humble as his mother had been. He had not seen that type of selflessness since Elizabeth of York had walked these halls and it caught his attention immediately to have a woman at court who embodied the same traits as his mother.

Henry was watching her that evening, Suffolk and Warwick could tell by the way his body tensed up as he sat upright against his throne and the way his eyes never left the corner of the room which Grace had placed herself in. He was sitting at attention to see where Grace was at all time. He had noticed her odd behavior and it intrigued him. One encounter with him and she had reformed the way she acted directly after their conversation. She had been frightened by his temper, but not so scared that she would flee from court and him.

It was at that moment that Grace turned her head and her eyes connected with the king's. She looked down for a second, but quickly brought her eyes back up to glare fiercely at the king. There was that fire he saw in her yesterday and he chuckled, raising his chalice to her in a kind of salute. She rose from the table abruptly, turning on her heels and exiting the banquet hall. The game was back on and the king sure loved a challenge.

* * *

The hall was dark, only the glow of torches and the glimmer of moonlight filtering through the windows could light up the stone floors and walls. It barely lit up the hall though as tapestries covered what few windows there were. The king stood at one end, searching, but for what, he did not know. All he knew is that something had escaped him and he raced down the hallway to catch it before it slipped from his fingers again. That was when he saw Anne at the entrance to his throne room, wearing that god forsaken golden dress that he had seen in a previous dream. He was confused now. She looked the same as she had previously in the dream, while he had aged. He was not wearing a gold outfit, but one of black satin. Why would he be having the same dream, but with changed aspects within it?

Henry chased Anne, now coming into the sunlight room and running towards her as she teased him behind the columns. However, it felt different. As if something was missing. It wasn't the same as it had been, his blood running with lust and his desire untamed. No, it was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on. And as he ran after her into his presence chamber, words echoed in his head. "Seduce me. Write letters to me. And poems. I love poems. Ravish me with your words. Seduce me." They were the words of Anne, but the room was empty. No one was in the room. Curious, he ventured further into his own personal chambers and the scene changed. It held a different atmosphere, not one filled with sexual tension, but with danger.

Instead of seeing Anne, there he saw Grace lying on the cold stone floor. She was curled up like a ball and shivering, her body covered in a thin nightgown that barely did anything to warm her. The nightgown had fallen off her shoulders, exposing the smooth skin of her collarbone, neck, and shoulders. She had been crying, her eyes wide and filled with fear when they connected with the king's.

"Your majesty," Grace muttered, rising to her feet clumsily and holding herself as she bowed quickly and waited for him to speak. She appeared anxious and on edge as she looked from the floor to the king and then searched around her for any type of danger. Henry said nothing, but neared towards her. Her eyes studied him as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself and backed up like a frightened filly.

Henry continued to make his way towards Grace until she had finally backed herself up against the wall. She had nowhere to run, but she tried one last attempt at bolting and failed. The king caught her in his grasp, his grip neither tight or threatening. She squirmed in his arms, trying to break free. "No, no, no," she screamed, fighting her hardest to get away." Henry couldn't understand her behavior, but was patient and held her until she tired in his arms. She slumped against him exhausted from her actions and accepting the fact that the king's iron grip would not cease.

"What is wrong, my lady?" Henry questioned, his face buried in Grace's hair as he took in her scent and his arms holding her gently. Grace either did not notice or did not care how the king was acting, but continued to shiver violently in the his arms. She pushed herself away, but not so much as for their embrace to be broken.

"Will you protect me? Honor me?" Grace questioned. The king held a perplexed look on his face, confused as to why she was asking him this. "Promise me, promise me you won't let anyone hurt me," she implored. The king was taken aback by her pleading, but when he looked into her eyes, he wanted nothing more in the world than to save her, protect her, cherish her. He nodded profusely, tightening his arms around her.

"I promise," Henry relayed, genuine in his response. He had never felt so needed in his life. Here was this innocent girl asking not for him to seduce him, but to protect her. She was unlike other women in so many ways. She knew her flaws, but accepted them and her stubbornness was actually quite endearing. "I will do so much more, my lady," he continued, consoling all her fears. They stood there, saying nothing, but holding each other.

The dream became fuzzy, the scene darkening. Henry shot up from his bed, panting heavily. His body was covered in layers of sweat, his hands clammy, and his body shaking. He had no idea what the dream meant, but he would be sure to not let Grace out of his sight.

* * *

 _ **Hatfield August 1534**_

The Lady Mary had been left to her own devices for the day, Lady Bryan leaving her to herself. Though she had been placed at Hatfield to care for the Princess Elizabeth, she never truly did. She never changed the princess' diaper, fed her, clothed her, rocked her, and much more. She was never left alone with the princess either, no one trusting her at all. It was a cruel fate, having been a Princess of England and her father's pearl of the world, but none of that seemed to matter. She had been reduced to nothing and everyone made sure she knew, especially the ladies attending on Princess Elizabeth. The maids and servants often pitied her, but kept their mouths shut. They served the new princess now and Mary was not to be sympathized with.

Mary sat in her chambers on this dreary August day. It was pouring, the wind making tree branches rattle against the windows. She held a letter in her hands, scanning the words continuously. Grace had written to her diligently while she had been at court. Mary had received a letter every week, Grace revealing to Mary why her father had brought her to court. Of course, Mary had been furious, not at her friend, but at the Duke of Warwick. She could never understand why a father would make her daughter do so, but then, she realized Richard was not holding Grace against her will. Grace had attracted the king's attention all on her own, without any encouragement from her father to put herself in his way.

Grace had recently written to Mary that she had made a grave mistake, talking out of turn and insulting the king. Mary had laughed at what Grace had said to the king, but she was also nervous for her friend. There was a fine line between amusing and angering the king and Grace was dangling on the edge of it. Mary was sure her friend knew it too, but it did nothing to change the way Grace would act. As soon as the king got on her nerves again, she would return to her normal self. Mary just hoped she would be able to control her temper or else she would definitely regret coming to court.

* * *

Sir Thomas More sat cold and shivering in his cell, a meager meal of sour ale and dry bread placed before him. He had barely touched the food, instead choosing to drown himself in his books and studies instead. He still had not been allowed any visitors, only Cromwell had been allowed and that was only to interrogate him further. He had lost weight, making his face look sunken. However, it was not so horrible as for him to look as if he had been starved. Some days were better than others and today just so happened to be a dismal one.

More knew his family had come to court and petitioned on his behalf, but no ground had been made. He knew the king was too set in his ways and would not budge until More had said something. More had also heard that his niece had made a great impression on the court. She would be the key to his release, he was positive. She was cunning, intelligent, stubborn, and outspoken, a total opposite of the women of her time. He knew the king would become enamored with her somehow. He just hoped she wouldn't be drawn to the flame, for all who came too close were burned.

* * *

 _ **Windsor Palace September 1534**_

It was Princess Elizabeth's first birthday and she had been brought to court for the grand celebrations put together by her parents for the occasion. Anne was especially happy since it meant she would be able to spend time with her daughter and would be able to show her off to the court as well as foreign ambassadors. Henry was also glad to see his daughter, but his and Anne's relationship had been tense for the past month. Anne was suspicious of him engaging in affairs with other women, but since having had her cousin Madge Shelton as his mistress, Henry had had no urge to sleep with other women. He had been satisfied by looking at Grace alone. The two hadn't had an encounter since July, but he the king still had his eye on her.

As Elizabeth was paraded around the hall by her father, Anne watched Grace intently, her sharp silver gaze never wavering. She was a pretty thing, Anne would admit that. She wasn't one of those dumb court girls though. She actually had a brain and voice of her own, much like she did. Gesturing to one of her ladies, she leaned over to whisper in her ear. The lady nodded and curtsied before completing the task that the queen had ordered her to do. Anne watched her lady-in-waiting as she carried out her order, keeping the king in the corner of her eye to make sure he would not see what would happen. The lady made her way towards Grace, tapping her on her shoulder since her back was turned as she talked to the Duchess of Suffolk.

Grace was confused when she turned around and saw one of the queen's lady behind her. She was even more confused when the lady uttered, "The queen wishes to speak with you." As soon as those words left the lady's lips, Grace's eyes turned to Anne who was watching the exchange. Grace did not squirm under her gaze, but instead met her stare steadily. She nodded to the lady, excusing herself from her conversation with the Duchess and following her towards where the queen was sitting.

Reaching their destination, the lady-in-waiting presented Grace to the queen. Grace curtsied respectfully, waiting for the queen to speak. "Lady Neville," the queen began, her voice neither sweet nor threatening. She was completely monotone as she spoke. "I don't think we have had the pleasure of meeting. How has your time at court been so far?" Anne questioned. She reached forward and took a sip of wine from her chalice as Grace answered.

"It is much different from the French court your majesty, but much more inviting. I enjoyed my time in France, but I was a child and did not participate much in the many events that took place," Grace spoke.

"I see," Anne replied. "And has any man made the gesture that he wishes to court you? I'm sure you have many suitors," she continued. Those words caught Grace's attention. The queen was not trying to make small talk but was interrogating Grace subtlety so only she would understand. Her ladies were either not paying attention or were too stupid to realize the true intent of Anne's words.

"Your majesty," Grace said, taking in a deep breath an gathering the courage she needed to speak, "If you are suggesting what I think you are than you doubt my loyalty to you for a woman who lies with another woman's husband is sinful and immoral. I never have and never will be a man's concubine, whether that woman's marriage is recognized by the world or not." Anne knew she was referring to the king's displacement of Catherine of Aragon as well as the fact that the whole of Europe did not recognize Anne as Queen of England. But Grace did not speak with disgust in her voice or hinted that she thought Anne was not rightfully Queen. She spoke truthfully.

Anne recognized that she had misjudged Grace. Perhaps she would be a useful ally against her enemies. She knew Grace was loyal to Catherine. The whole court knew it as Grace had been Mary's most trusted lady-in-waiting and friend. And yet, Grace did not falter when she spoke to the queen about her faithfulness to her. She would not commit adultery with the king even if it meant having more power than she could imagine and Anne admired her for that. For once there was not a power-hungry family trying to swoop in and take the king away from her.

"Well then," Anne muttered, "Lady Neville, I would most enjoy if you would become one of my ladies-in-waiting and when I cannot visit Elizabeth, I would like you to see after her welfare in my absence." Grace was surprised by the queen's offer, not expecting her to say such a thing. Then again, the queen probably did not expect her response either.

"Of course, your majesty. I would be honored," Grace replied. It was done. Grace's position at court was now secure. She was a lady-in-waiting to the queen and would serve her faithfully, attending to her every need. She was doing this for her family, for Mary, but most importantly, for her uncle. If Grace gained the queen's confidence, perhaps the queen would persuade the king to release her uncle and divert the king from the path he was taking. Either way, Grace had again placed herself in the king's path and there was no turning back.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: On to chapter six! Thank you all so much for supporting my story. Special thanks to guests who reviews I cannot answer over messages. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it so far! Welcome to Kenny94, senjuprincess182, nightsinshadow, Kilyen, Elvira Silver, southsidequeenie, LampsOfAladdin, Luna Mikaelson, and CullenMia.**

* * *

 **Ch. 6**

" _ **It is frequently a misfortune to have very brilliant men in charge of affairs. They expect too much of ordinary men."**_

 _ **~Thucydides**_

" _ **And don't you know that I can drag you down as quickly as I raised you!"**_

 _ **~Henry VIII, The Tudors**_

* * *

 _ **Whitehall Palace 25 September 1534**_

Of all the things Grace hated about being her majesty Queen Anne's lady-in-waiting, the gaudy yellow gown that all ladies had to wear was by far the bane of her existence. Though she had only been in her majesty's service about three weeks, she had already tired of the matching uniform. It was not the color she hated, but the fact that a crown lay on the middle of the bodice with rubies sewn into the design. She thought it distasteful. Other than that, Grace did not mind performing duties for her majesty. In fact, she rather enjoyed keeping herself busy. The only other con about being a lady-in-waiting was that men flocked to her like she was a shepherd of a herd of sheep. She despised that aspect. Just because she was a pretty girl serving her queen she had deal with the idiocrasy of men who all thought she was easy prey.

Grace had been treated kindly by the queen, unlike what many ladies of the court had gossiped about. Queen Anne had no tolerance of lewd behavior and often read the bible to her ladies that could not read. She was firm in her rules, but was gentle, much like Catherine of Aragon had been to her own ladies. But what differed from the other queen was that Anne tried to educate her ladies in several areas such as French, writing, and arithmetic. Catherine merely urged the duties of a housewife such as sewing, needlepoint, and playing musical instruments, not viewing education as her responsibility since they were there to serve her, not learn.

Since Anne encouraged her ladies to be chaste and godly, visits to the palace church were daily as well as giving out alms to the poor. Queen Anne and her ladies were all praying on their knees in front of the cross that hung on the wall at the head of the chapel. All wore white veils and held gold rosaries in their hands. Grace was kneeling directly next to Anne, the other ladies behind them. Clearly Anne favored Grace and many noticed how Grace's star began to rise in court. First the king had his eyes on her and now the queen. It seemed that the queen would provide Grace protection from the king's advances when usually a queen's lady would be more accessible to the king.

After reciting their final prayers, all women made the sign of the cross over their chests and rose from their kneeling positions. It was time for distribution of alms which Anne performed twice a week. She was quite generous, often giving out more than Catherine did at times. She held a soft spot for the poor of England and always tried to help with their welfare in any way she could. The ladies-in-waiting all followed after Anne diligently, holding purple pouches filled to the brim with golden coins. Both Anne and her ladies would distribute alms to the poor and wash the feet of the sick, showing compassion and pity to those not as fortunate as themselves.

Just as the women made their way onto the streets, the king and his entourage arrived. The ladies-in-waiting curtsied as he made his way to the queen and lifted her hand to kiss it in greeting. Grace spotted her father and brother among the king's entourage and went to greet her family members. Her younger brother had returned home to take care of his father's estates and to spend time with his young family as the baby had been sick so the elder two remained. John pulled on his sister's hair affectionately, making her swat at him jokingly while her father and brother Richard kissed her forehead in greeting.

Meanwhile, Anne smiled at her husband's affection and then gestured towards the open doors where their people were waiting. Henry held out his arm for her to take and the two led the group out onto the streets. The ladies-in-waiting followed behind them in rows of two, Grace directly behind the queen with Lady Zouche. As they walked towards the crowd, Grace could see the king slyly watching her from the corner of his eyes, but she paid no attention. Instead, she kept her head forward and acted as if he did not exist. Henry chuckled at her dismissal towards him, low enough so Anne merely thought he had coughed.

Reaching their destination, Henry released Anne's hand and stepped back to watch her perform her queenly duties. Anne and her ladies then made their way towards the people, the crowd parting for them as they begin to pass out coins to the poor. Henry's eyes followed Anne and he felt prideful at her generosity to his people. If there was one thing the whole of Europe could not say about her it would be that she was a vain and greedy queen for she was the exact opposite. In fact, he thought she took too much money from the coffers for her charity.

All the ladies were giving out coins to the poor, smiling as they performed their task. Some ladies had real smiles, others had fake grins plastered onto their faces as they disliked coming into contact with people of a lesser status than them. However, unlike the other ladies, Grace was handing out four coins versus two. She knew that the smaller amount would do nothing to sustain a small family for even a few days. By giving them more coins, perhaps more mouths could be fed. She was quick, heading to the back of the crowd towards the people who would be excluded once all the coins had been passed out.

Many eyes lit up when the poor saw Grace passing them money that could be used to clothe and feed their families. Many men and women thanked her, glad that they could provide for their families. The elderly commented on how beautiful of a lady she was, inside and out, and commended her for her charitable nature. Children eagerly held their hands and Grace bended down to give them the coins. One such group of children stood out from the others, dressed is rags and grime covering their faces. The leader of the group was a boy no older than twelve and three young girls huddled around him, clinging to his poor excuse for clothing. In his arms he held a baby who thankfully did not look on the verge of starvation, but was giggling when it saw Grace approaching.

Concerned for the children's welfare, Grace bended down so she would be more approachable to the children. "Hello," she said in a friendly tone. "My name is Grace. What are your names?"

The boy looked hesitant for a moment, but his sister beat him to the punch. "Mary," the smallest girl spoke, "And this is John, Margaret, and Katherine. And our baby sister's name is Isabel," she said eagerly.

"My, what pretty names you all have. I have a brother named John." Grace turned over her shoulder and pointed at her brother who waved at them, confused why his sister was conversing with the children. "Where are your parents?" she questioned. The boy fidgeted for a moment before speaking, not meeting her eye.

"Mother is at the house with the twins, Henry and Charles. She is pregnant and cannot move around very much. Our father passed away a few months ago from sickness. He was a servant to his majesty." John was quiet as he talked and stared at the ground, his feet moving back and forth on the ground in a nervous manner. Grace was heartbroken for the children, handing them a pouch that she had hidden under her skirts. It was filled with money that she had saved herself from weaving and other jobs.

John looked at the pouch in disbelief while Mary giggled. She grabbed Grace's hand and started pulling her out into the street, surprising Grace. Grace turned beckoning to her brother who followed as well as two guards he ordered to come with for protection. The king noticed immediately, waiting for the siblings to walk around the corner with the children before he followed discreetly. Of course, all bowed as he exited the venue, but he was on the outskirts of the crowd so few noticed as they waited to receive some coins for their wellbeing.

Grace was led through the busy streets by Mary, her siblings also leading them to some unknown destination. The streets were packed due to the daily alms giving my her majesty as well as the everyday happenings in the city. Farmers were selling their wares, animals swarmed the streets, and business owners were selling their many products. It was noisy, much too loud for Grace's liking and the smells were unbearable, but she continued being dragged by Mary while her brother and the guards were following close behind.

Finally, the group turned onto a less crowded road and Mary walked into an open doorway, pulling Grace behind her. This was a poorer part of town but inside, the small home was immaculate. Nothing was out of place and what few objects there were inside were clean and orderly. Grace looked to John for an answer, confused at why their appearances were so dirty. He responded, "While mother cares for the babies, we work in the fields outside of town for more money." Grace nodded, understanding their predicament. It was a cruel life for these children and she shared a grim look with her brother who stood behind her. The guards remained outside so as not to frighten the mother.

Suddenly, the children's mother appeared, her large stomach making her look as if she were about to burst. She held a mixing bowl in her hands while two small children were holding her skirts, hiding behind their motherly shyly. Grace noticed how tired the woman looked now that she had to take care of children by herself. She had once been a beautiful woman, she still was, but the wrinkles on her face and her graying hair indicated that age was taking over. She couldn't be any older than thirty-five Grace thought, but she was still an attractive woman and fertile by the looks of it. The woman smiled politely at Grace and curtsied when she noticed her ladies uniform. "My lady," she spoke, "Welcome to my home. To what do I owe this honor? I hope my children were not being bothersome." She sent a warning look at her children, hoping they had not caused trouble. She took the baby from her eldest child's arms, cooing at the baby.

"Mama look what Grace gave us!" Mary exclaimed, showing her mother the coin purse.

"Mary," her mother scolded, "You do not call a lady by her first name." She took the pouch from her daughter and drew the string, seeing the contents inside. She gasped, looking from the coins to Grace and back again to the pouch. "My lady," the mother said, "I cannot accept this." She held the pouch out for Grace to take, but she shook her head.

Grace responded, "Your son has told me of your recent loss. I wish to help in any way I can. Please keep the purse, and send for me anytime you are in need. I know it must be difficult in your condition to care for your children. And when you have delivered your child, perhaps you would like to join my household as a ladies maid to my brothers' wives. We live at Warwick Castle, but we would be able to provide food, housing, and pay for your children. My brother, nieces, and nephews also need some playmates and children to learn with." The mother looked in shock, holding her pregnant stomach as she started crying. Never in her years had she witnessed so much kindness in a woman from court. Not even Queen Catherine had done such a thing. She nodded, coming forward to embrace Grace in thanks. Grace let the woman hug her while whispering that all would be fine.

Meanwhile, the king stood outside the boundaries of the home, having witnessed the entire ordeal. He had a pensive look on his face, having once again been shown that Grace's personality had no boundaries. Here she was willingly giving a woman an opportunity to better her life as well as that of her children's without expecting anything in return. He had underestimated this woman's abilities.

The king then decided to make his presence known, stepping onto the premises. The mother of the children was again in shock, trying to curtsy in her present condition. "Your majesty," she spoke while Henry waved his hand. He saw no need for formalities, especially since she was heavily pregnant. Grace also rose from her curtsy, sending a sharp look towards his majesty.

"Lady Grace," Henry spoke, holding his hand out for her to take. "We should return before the queen notices you are missing. She would be quite worried by your absence. And madam," he spoke to the woman, "It would please me if you and your children came with us to the palace and after your child is born, you will return with Grace to Warwick Castle. My head of household will make the arrangements once you arrive." Grace raised her eyebrows at the king's use of her name as well as his offer to the woman. She had not taken the king for a man who would offer a position in his household to just anyone, but perhaps she had misjudged him. Maybe he wasn't a monster after all. Eyeing him, she took his outstretched hand as he led her back to the palace. He was gentle in his hold, his right hand holding hers while his left came to lay on the middle of her back as he led her through the crowded streets. The woman and her children followed behind after a quick conversation with her neighbor who would lock up after her and watch her home until it could be sold for profit.

Grace did not contest the king's actions, but kept quiet as she did not want to cause an argument. A path was formed in the crowd once the people realized their king was present and the commoners all wondered who the mysterious lady was. The court was even more confused when they saw the king return with a group of children added to his retinue. A page quickly led them and their mother inside while the king returned to his previous position at the opening to the palace. The queen said nothing as Grace returned to her majesty's side. Instead she watched Grace for any reaction at all. She was met with a blank stare and an apology by Grace for her wandering off as well as an explanation for who the woman and children were. Anne nodded, pleased with what she heard.

Soon the other ladies joined, their task finished and all proceeded inside the palace. The king returned to Anne's side as they led their court back inside. However, all eyes were on Grace as she kept her position behind the queen. _The pleasantries of court_ she thought sarcastically. She rolled her eyes an let out a great sigh for she knew she would soon she would be the topic of gossip and rumors.

* * *

"Did he say anything to you?" the Duke of Warwick questioned. He was interrogating Grace in the privacy of his rooms, his two elder sons looking antsy at their father's harshness. Grace shook her head, irritated at her father's behavior. She slouched in the seat she was sitting in, holding her face on her hand as she looked on in boredom. "Answer me," he exclaimed, furious at her silence.

"No father," Grace replied in an equally angry and loud voice. Her gaze at him was fierce. "He said nothing to me. What did you expect?"

Warwick groaned at his daughter's behavior. She was a riot, never acting like a lady when she was supposed to. "Could you for once act as you are supposed to?" Warwick asked. Grace's demeanor changed, her face changing from angry to embarrassed. "What did he do?" Warwick continued.

Grace muttered, "The king heard what I said to Mistress Edwardes." Grace had discovered the woman's name after arriving back at her quarters. Her and her children were housed comfortably with the other servants and their families, and had sent thanks to Grace once more. She would visit them when she had the time. "He offered her a position at the palace until she could be moved to our residence." Warwick raised his eyebrows at his daughter, pushing her to further reveal why she had done so. "You always told me to show kindness and pity. I offered her position as a lady's maid. Besides, Arthur needs some playmates as well as your grandchildren. They can't all be grumpy like you," she teased. A smile flickered across her father's face, the seriousness of the situation fading.

"Anything else?" Warwick questioned. Grace faltered for a moment, not knowing how her father would take the news.

"The king called me by my first name, no formalities or anything."

Warwick halted his pacing. That was interesting news to him. "You may go now," he spoke, dismissing what she told him for the moment. "Ask if the queen may give you leave for your brother's birthday. He misses you. And perhaps you can visit the Princess Elizabeth on your way there or back," Warwick said, leaning down and kissing his daughter's forehead. "Now run along, the queen can't be without her current favorite for long," he joked. Grace stuck her tongue out at her father, rising from her chair and kissing her brothers on their cheeks before disappearing.

"She's learning," Richard spoke, his eyes following after his baby sister. "Don't be so hard on her." Warwick turned to his elder son, but John spoke before his father could.

"Sometimes you have to be harsh. It's the only way she'll know how important her position at court is and how much is at stake for Uncle Thomas." John sounded just like his father. Of all of Warwick's sons, John was the true courtier and politician. Warwick nodded at his son's words, glad one of his sons had grasped the importance of the situation. Grace was constantly being watched. One step out of line and it could be the end for her, for her uncle, for all of them at court. However, she proved that acting unlike all the other courtiers, she was cracking the king's hard exterior. And that's what made Warwick worry the most.

* * *

 _ **28 September 1534**_

Queen Anne and her ladies sat in the confines of her apartments making shirts for his majesty. She remembered a time when she had once caught a servant taking Henry's shirts to Catherine as she had made them. Anne was furious, causing a fight with Henry that finally made him discard Catherine from court once and for all. That time was long gone and now, Anne was in her place. She thought herself immature now for such a disruption, but the past was the past.

Looking on at her ladies, Anne noticed Grace struggling with her task. She appeared to be more adept at pricking her finger then sewing shirts. Her face was a bright red and she was completely frustrated with herself by the way she kept sighing and glaring down at her work. "Lady Grace," the queen uttered, "You may stop if you wish so." Grace looked up from her work sheepishly, embarrassed that she had been caught not only lacking in her ability to sew, but also that she had been angry at such a silly thing. She set aside the cloth and needle, sucking on her bleeding pointer finger. "Come," Anne spoke, patting the seat beside her, "Come and sit with me."

Grace rose from her position across the room, all eyes on her as she went to sit next to the queen. She sent each of the ladies a look so fierce many shirked away immediately while others looked as if they would run away from the room. Anne chuckled to herself. Grace was not here to make friends nor support cause for gossip. She was here to serve the queen and her alone. She had no time for childish pastimes or gossip.

Grace sat down, her hands in her lap as she waited for Anne to speak with her. Anne was quiet, finishing a third shirt for her husband. She then turned to Grace before speaking to her other ladies. "Leave," she said in a sharp tone. "Leave your shirts where they are. Lady grace and I will finish them. Go entertain yourselves in the garden or elsewhere. I will send a page to you all later." All ladies set their shirts aside, curtsied to the queen, and left quickly. Many of them were whispering among themselves, but Grace only rolled her eyes. One more look from Anne and they were gone. The two women sat in complete silence, Grace waiting for the queen to speak.

"Lady Grace, I am not angry with you, but wish to know what my husband, the king said to you the other day when he escorted you back to the palace." Anne was gentle in her tone, bot threatening at all. She merely wished to know if her husband was straying.

"Nothing, your majesty," Grace responded. "As you know, his majesty had allowed Mistress Edwardes to stay here until she can be moved to my father's residence. But the king said nothing more." As Anne and Grace connected eyes, Anne knew her lady was telling the truth, but she was hiding something.

"Is that all?" Anne questioned further. Grace squirmed under the queen's constant gaze, but she could not hide this from her.

"He…His majesty…"Grace stuttered. Her hands fiddled in her lap and she licked her lips in nervousness. "His majesty called me by my name when he spoke to Mistress Edwardes, but he did not call me by my title. I think it was a slip of the tongue though. We are all human. No one seemed to notice, but me." Her eyes were glued to her lap as she spoke, Anne being a formidable lady.

The queen was taken aback. The king rarely ever called anyone by their name, only Charles and herself being two of the few. She rose from her chair, her hand against her bodice while the other rested on her waist as she started to breath heavily. She hadn't felt this way since she had lost the baby, like everything was slipping from her fingers. She turned to Grace who had the decency to look ashamed, making Anne's angry face change to understanding. "I am not angered with you Lady Grace. As you said, the king made a small mistake." Anne smiled at Grace for her benefit, a burden now lifted from her poor lady's shoulders. Yet, she would keep a close eye on her. Of all of her ladies, Grace was the most genuine. She was not concerned with raising her family's position at court for her father was already a duke. And by telling Anne the truth, she knew Grace was not pushing her own agenda. "As you have asked, I will give you permission to leave court and visit your brother for the next few weeks. I also ask that you stay with my daughter for a few days as well and inform me of her wellbeing."

"Of course your majesty," Grace responded, glad that the small interrogation session was over. She went to pick up the discarded shirts, bringing them back to where her majesty and herself were sitting. "I will finish these as you said." Anne nodded her head at her lady, pleased with how dedicated she was in performing her duties. She said nothing, instead pulling a shirt into her lap as well. The two sat side by side, finishing up the shirts in silence. However, it was not awkward silence, but the type of silence that indicated the two were comfortable with each other. If anyone were to look in on them now, they would say that Grace truly was her majesty's favorite.

* * *

 _ **Warwick Castle 5 October 1534**_

Grace was quite relieved to be home from court. Her father had escorted her home while her elder brothers followed a few days later. Not having to wear her "court uniform" was relaxing since she could wear her less restricting country clothes. She was also glad to spend time with her family for she had missed them dearly for the past six months. Her nieces and nephews were growing like weeds and her brother Arthur was practically a man in the eyes of society. She often imagined what it would be like when he was introduced to court, fearing he would be corrupted by power-hungry nobles. But, she knew in her heart, he would never stray from his morals.

The two siblings sat in an oak tree, reading from their books of hours. They sat on the same branch, Grace leaning against the trunk of the tree while Arthur sat upright in the middle of the branch. A black stallion was underneath them, grazing while the siblings read. Both siblings wore simple clothing, Arthur a white shirt and brown breeches with matching boots. Grace wore a flowy blue gown which was slit on the sleeves and was lined with white lace. She wore no makeup or jewelry, and her hair was flowing over her shoulders. Her shoes had been flung carelessly on the ground, forgotten for the moment.

The crunching of leaves could be heard as a few riders and horses approached. Grace paid no mind, thinking it was her father and brothers. Arthur and her were on a remote part of the estate, the tree placed up on a hill overlooking the castle. She kept reading her book, glancing at Arthur who was looking on in wide eyes. She ignored him, thinking he was just making an odd face at her brother.

"Grace," Warwick said, his voice deep as he spoke. "We have some unexpected guests. Why don't you and your brother come and greet them?" Grace neither noticed the formality in his voice nor turned to look and see if it was anyone other than her brothers.

Instead Grace spoke, "Unless our guest is the king then I'm staying put. I didn't come home to entertain flimsy and fake courtiers." She knew she would be scolded for her sassiness, but did not care. She came home to relax and visit her family, not amuse people she had escaped from for the next few weeks. Arthur turned to his sister, making a warning face at her. She raised her eyebrows at her brother, but paid him no mind and returned to her book.

"My, my, Lady Grace, I'm lucky I'm the king then," a teasing voice spoke. Grace froze, placing her book on her lap before turning around the trunk of the tree to see the king and the Duke of Suffolk smiling and chuckling at her. She gulped when she saw her father's face. He was enraged with her behavior once again and stared down at his daughter with his intimidating green eyes.

"Your majesty," Grace said embarrassed. She looked to Arthur who dismounted from his spot on the tree before reaching up and helping Grace down as well. She smoothed down the skirt of her dress before curtsying. "Please excuse me for being outspoken. I was not expecting it to be you."

"Understandable Lady Grace. You are forgiven. I'm glad I'm not just any other courtier." Fortunately, the king was in a jesting mood, which Grace was glad for. However, she also saw someone she had hoped to never see again. There was Elizabeth "Bess" Hardwick on the back of her chestnut mare. Grace could never forget her dark hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to enchant any man. "What is she doing here?" Grace questioned her father, glaring at the detestable woman. Bess had been John's betrothed until he had caught her lying with another man.

The king answered her. "Mistress Hardwick was kind enough to show us the way to Warwick Castle. Suffolk couldn't remember the damn directions," he chuckled, clapping his friend on the back who also let out a hearty chuckle. Grace continued to eye Bess, not pleased with her arrival.

"Mistress Hardwick? Did your marriage not follow through?" Grace questioned, a smirk appearing on her delicate features. Bess glared harshly at Grace. "Well, I suppose it's only natural for the woman who was betrothed to my brother to be rejected by another suitor. I mean after my brother caught you with another man, a married man to be exact, it's no wonder you can't find a husband. Who would want a loose harlot as a wife?" Bess looked as if she was about to burst into tears. It was true she was a loose woman whose heart often wandered from man to man, but Grace's words were cruel and Bess felt as if the words drove a knife straight through her heart. The king and Suffolk looked surprised at Grace's outburst, Arthur tried to stop himself from laughing aloud, and Warwick rolled his eyes in frustration.

Warwick had the decency to send a look towards his daughter, but he had to catch himself from showing pride in his daughter's words. John was never the same after Bess had jolted him, henceforth why he was not married and had not married. John hadn't sought out a woman for the past five years nor did he want to. Warwick had never liked the girl, but his son loved her and so he went along with the marriage arrangements. He was relieved when the marriage was called off, but he still held pity for Bess. "You may leave now Mistress Hardwick," Warwick spoke, waving her off. "Thank you for directing the king and Lord Suffolk." Bess looked as if she were about to throw a fit, her mouth forming an ugly pout while her eyes narrowed. She turned her horse around swiftly and was off, bowing to his majesty on her horse before doing so. The king raised his eyebrows at Bess's distasteful display of cleavage, masking a disgusted look on his face that Suffolk saw straight through. He hated easy women. They bored him easily and why would he have a woman who many had already conquered? There was no challenge, no spark, no adventure.

"Shall we head back your majesty? I'm sure you and Suffolk are quite tired from your ride." Warwick questioned, wanting to divert the king's attention from the awkwardness of the situation.

"Of course, Warwick," Henry spoke. "Suffolk is getting too old to ride for long hours," he joked.

Suffolk retorted, "At least I'm not starting to grey," making all the men laugh. Grace rolled her eyes at their banter, mounting the black stallion she and her brother had ridden. Arthur had already mounted, pulling Grace up behind him so she could hold onto them as they rode. The group headed back to the palace, Arthur whispering in his sister's ear questions about why the king was there. Grace shushed him, annoyed by her little brother's pestering and at the king for ruining her peace. She tried to discreetly turn her head to look over her shoulder, but she was caught. The king was already looking at her and she whipped her head forward.

Henry wondered what could possibly be going through Grace's head as she rode ahead of them with her brother. He had caught her trying to slyly take a glance at them, but he had already been looking. She looked more comfortable, less tense since she wasn't at court. Yet, when Mistress Hardwick rode up with them, Grace was up and arms about the woman being anywhere near her family. The way she spoke was defensive, some would say not ladylike, but Warwick seemed to agree with his daughter, neither scolding nor pulling her aside to talk.

Henry knew Grace was disappointed with his arrival, but he did not care. He was tired of being at court and he enjoyed Warwick's family. Anne was badgering him about an alliance with France that included the betrothal of Elizabeth to the Dauphin or one of his younger brothers and it irritated Henry. He was too busy with domestic problems to think about making another alliance with Francis at the moment. Besides, he thought as he looked at Grace, he had more important things to deal with right in front of him.

* * *

The whole Neville family sat down for dinner that night with the king and Suffolk, all children included. The king sat at the head of the table, Warwick sat at his left and Suffolk at his right. The Neville sons were spread out on either side of the table. Richard's wife, Anne, and Christian's wife, Mary, both held their babies in their arms, both sitting at the middle of the table while their elder children sat at the end of the table. Arthur sat with his older nephews since he was four and six years older than them. Grace sat next to Mary, holding her niece Elizabeth in her arms while her other niece, Christina, sat next to her eating her food as properly as a three-year-old could. They were a rowdy bunch, but close to one another. Family was everything to the Nevilles as the king could tell.

Watching Grace, the king admired the way she was so patient with both of her nieces. Christina was practically getting food everywhere, Grace stopping her every few seconds to wipe her mouth with a napkin. Meanwhile, Elizabeth let her Aunt feed her tiny morsels of food instead of stuffing her face.

"So tell me, your majesty, what is this new project the counsel has been discussing?" Warwick questioned, diverting the king's attention from Grace. The king reached for his chalice, taking a last sip of wine before holding it up for a servant to refill.

"I've decided to open a house for single mothers and children who have no father or husband to care for them. It will be opened on the outskirts of London, hopefully in the spring, and will allow those unfortunate to have a home for some time until they either find a husband or find a sufficient source of income. The home will provide food, clothing, and shelter as well as encourage the women to take up an occupation of their own," the king spoke, Grace looking shocked at the news. He continued, "The queen has suggested that the home provide material for the women to spin and make cloth as well as allow them to maintain gardens and a small farm." Warwick looked quite pleased at the king's plan and Grace's masked facial features fell away for a moment to reveal an impressed look. "I have to thank your daughter for the plan Warwick for her display of kindness opened my eyes to the sufferings of many of my people." The king nodded his head at Grace in acknowledgement and she blushed, staring down at her lap and not making eye contact with the king. She did not blush because the king was looking at her, but because she was the center of attention. She hated it, rather wishing she had not been mentioned at all for it indicated the king's interest in her. Now she knew why the queen had interrogated her.

"To Lady Grace," Suffolk exclaimed, raising his chalice. "To Lady Grace," the Nevilles all said, performing the same action as Suffolk. The king also raised his chalice, rejoicing with the others. His gaze never wavered from Grace until Suffolk addressed him directly. Warwick was practically beaming with pride at his daughter. The king appeared to be changing all because of Grace. However, his prideful face turned to that of worry when he saw Grace's expression. She was not soaking in all the attention, but instead looked as if she were about to yell at the king. Her eyes that were usually alight with laughter and joy had turned dark with hate. Though the king was doing good for his people, he would still be the same man who imprisoned her uncle in the tower and until More was released, the king was a tyrannical monster in Grace's eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: So excited for this next chapter. Soooooo much is gonna happen. Hello to all my new followers and favs: daria081, dancegirl92, BrittStar1199, Ms Poison Ivey, lucksby92, doubi1998, lisjaka22, MissLaufeyson97, Raven31, LOPE, and jigokunooujo.**

* * *

 **Ch. 7**

" _ **Anger is like flowing water; there's nothing wrong with it as long as you let it flow. Hate is like stagnant water; anger that you denied yourself the freedom to feel, the freedom to flow; water that you gathered in one place and left to forget. Stagnant water becomes dirty, stinky, disease-ridden, poisonous, deadly; that is your hate. On flowing water travels little paper boats; paper boats of forgiveness. Allow yourself to feel anger, allow your waters to flow, along with all the paper boats of forgiveness. Be human."**_ _ **  
**_ _ **~C. Joybell C.**_

" _ **In time we hate that which we often fear."**_

 _ **William Shakespeare**_ _ **,**_ _ **Antony and Cleopatra**_

* * *

 _ **The Tower of London 6 October 1534**_

Sir Thomas sat in the cold confines of his so-called chamber in the tower. His figure was smaller, but not sickly and his face showed signs of a beard forming. He had a raggedy blanket around his shoulders, but it did little to block the chill in the air. The openings in the chamber were the equivalent to windows, menacing bars placed in the openings instead of glass. He was vulnerable to the elements and his body was taking a toll. Yet, he still had the comforts of his books, the king allowing him a desk, writing utensils, and his books to keep him occupied. He knew his family had come to court, but he knew little of their progress. Grace had made an impression on both their majesties as he had heard, but still, he feared for his dear niece. She was a mirror image of her mother, not only in looks, but in intelligence, and she was more of a daughter to him than anything else. He was terrified that her tongue would get her in trouble, much like his sister's did when they were children.

The large iron door to More's room opened and Mr. Kingston stepped in. "Sir Thomas, you have visitors." More looks up from his boo, surprised and when he sees his wife and daughter, his expression changes to elation. He rises from his chair quickly, embracing them both.

"Alice. Margaret," More says joyfully as Mr. Kingston closes the door behind the two women. He cannot believe they are here. He kisses his wife lovingly while he holds his daughter in his arms, her laughing with happiness.

"Father," Margaret says smiling.

"Look at you." More steps back from his daughter, admiring her appearance and her grace.

Alice though, is much more serious, letting her husband know her thoughts. "Well, Thomas More I marvel that you have always been taken for so wise a man that you will now play the fool here in this close, filthy prison and be content apparently to be shut up among mice and rats."

"Oh, don't be like that," More responds, kissing Alice's cheek fondly. "I assure you this is one of the very best rooms in the tower. In fact, formally, I am a guest of the constable, who just brought you here. And I said to him before that if I ever showed the least sign of ingratitude for his great generosity, he should just throw me out of the tower altogether." He tries to make light of the situation, but his wife will not budge. He offers Margaret a chair which she sits in while her parents continue to argue. She has a grim look on her face, knowing her mother's anger was beginning to show.

"You know why we have come here," Alice speaks.

"I thought it was to see me," More replies plainly, trying to avoid the real reason why they were there.

Alice continues, urging More to listen. "Yes. It was to see you. But beyond that, it was to ask you to swear the oath so that you could come home with us. Grace has urged you to do so. I know she's been sending letters and the king lets her. She has his favor so while one of us is doing the right thing perhaps you should take advantage of the situation, and accept the oath."

More stares down at his feet. He will not give in, he will not surrender his conscience, and will not forsake God for Queen Catherine and Princess Mary's sake. "Alice, tell me one thing."

"What is that?" Alice asks.

"Is not this house as close to heaven as my own?" Alice is appalled at her husband's response, backing away from him.

"Good God, man. Is that all you can say?" Alice exclaims.

"If Grace heard the way you were speaking now she would never forgive you," Margaret adds. She knows her cousin would be disappointed in her uncle for his life was much more important to her than remaining faithful to the Catholic faith.

"You were always plain-speaking. It's one of the attributes I most admire you for," More addresses his wife. "As for Grace my dear, that is why I am saying this to you, and not her," he says to Margaret.

"Well, then I shall tell you plainly, husband that I, and Margaret, and all your other family have all sworn the oath and feel no worse for it. Even Warwick and the rest of the Nevilles have, all for your sake." Alice urges Thomas to consider, but he does not agree.

"And I have always said that I do not blame any other man or woman who has sworn. I only say that I myself cannot swear." More's stubbornness is most apparent.

Frustrated, Alice responds, "Then you are thinking only of yourself. If you are proceeded against as you know very well, all your possessions will be forfeited to the crown and we will be forced into penury."

"I have had more sleepless nights over that issue than over anything else," More coveys, Alice now noticing how tired and worn her husband truly looked. "But, I know Richard would never let such a thing happen. If something ought to happen to me, he will care for you all as I have asked him to."

"But still you will not swear!" Alice turns away from her husband in anger.

"Alice!" More exclaims, "I want you to understand, please. I do not I do not willingly seek martyrdom." He reaches for his daughter's hand and claps it tightly in his. "I will do everything I can to accommodate the king and his desires as Grace is doing so in her own way." Alice now turns to him, hoping her husband is seeing reason. More reaches for his wife as well. "We must remember that the king once made me a promise that he would never force me to do anything against my conscience, to look first unto God, and only after unto him." This makes Margaret smile. "So, Margaret, don't be sad. And, Alice say you are not angry with me. Please. If you left, and I thought so, I would feel I'd feel even more lonely than before." If Alice was angry with him, that would surely make him loose his perseverance in his task.

"No. I am not angry with you." Alice is shaking now, small tears falling down her face. "I am frightened. So very frightened." More embraces her, feeling badly for making his beloved cry. All he can do is hold her now and pray that his imprisonment would not be for much longer, that the king would return to his former self.

* * *

 _ **Warwick Castle 8 October 1534**_

Grace was practically fuming for the next three days, furious at the king for having taken her idea and turning it into his own personal project. Of course, if her father had asked for permission from the king to build such a home, the king would have again taken the idea for himself. Grace could never propose the idea herself, mainly because of her gender and the fact that she was not of significant importance. If she were a queen or the relative of a royal or even if she was the wife of a rich noble or a widow, perhaps she could do so. But since she was none of those, she could not pursue many things as she liked without the guidance and permission of her father.

Grace could barely tolerate his majesty's presence, avoiding him at all costs. Instead, she busied herself with her nieces and nephews lessons, helping them with their Latin and French. Grace was fluent not only in those languages, but also in Greek and German. She had studied Spanish and Italian, but she had not taken to it as well as the other languages. Like her brothers, Grace had been taught arithmetic, canon and civil law, classical literature, history, philosophy, religion, and theology. More had had an extensive part in her education and believed that women should be educated. Now, Grace was passing on the same philosophy to her nieces and nephews.

Arthur, Thomas, and John all sat with their tutor, John Wilder, who was teaching them law at the moment while Grace sat with Christina, reading from a French manuscript designed for children. Christina was just learning how to read in French and was doing exceptionally well. She stumbled over a few words, but with the encouragement of her aunt, she continued with confidence.

Arthur, bored with his lesson, wandered over to his sister and niece while Mr. Wilder helped Thomas and John with their studies. Arthur was much more advanced than them and rolled his eyes at the two who did not understand the concept Wilder was teaching. Sitting across from Grace, he watched as she helped Christina read. She was patient, much like their mother used to be when he had first started his lessons. She seemed much more patient with her niece then the king. And he never really understood why until a few days after the king's arrival.

Grace looked up at her brother, confused when she saw him smirking at her. "Why on earth do you have that look on your face?" she questioned, turning the page of the book while Christina continued to read aloud.

"No reason," Arthur said. "Father says the king will stay with us a little longer, probably a few more days." Grace scowled at that, having no idea that her brother was skimming the subject, waiting for an opening the question further.

"And why should I care?" Grace responded. "Doesn't his majesty have more important things to do then hunt and have lavish feasts prepared in his honor?"

"Like stare at pretty girls and send them gifts?" Grace froze at that comment, her body tensing up. Her eyes moved from the words on the page to connect with Arthur's eyes, the same shade of green as hers.

"What are you talking about?" Grace questioned. Her attention was now completely on Arthur, Christina not realizing her Aunt's full attention was no longer on her and her lesson.

"Richard mentioned it to father the other day," Arthur said nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a king to send his elder sister presents.

"That was only once," Grace replied.

"And letters?" Grace grimaced. The king had continued to send letters which she tore up immediately and threw into the fire. Of course, since the king was with her now he did no such thing, but at court, almost every few days she received a letter after the king once again found interest in her. It was quite annoying.

"I don't answer his letters." Grace was quite surprised. Arthur was more observant than she thought. Her father certainly did not give him enough credit. He seemed to understand the situation completely, being much more mature for his age.

"And he isn't angered?"

"Not that I know of. Besides, if he was angry with me than why would he be here?"

Arthur halted his questioning for a moment. He wasn't sure what to think of the king's advances towards his sister. His father and brothers were all cautious, knowing one foot out of line could cost them their positions at court and their uncle's life while Grace continued and insisted upon ignoring the king.

"He's not angry with you, he's testing you/ Perhaps you should play along to appease him. It might help with Uncle's situation." Grace turned red at Arthur's words.

"I will do no such thing," she gritted through her teeth. "Come Christina, let's go somewhere else to read." Grace rose from her chair, slamming the book and lifting Christina into her arms before they left the study room. The little girl had no clue what just occurred between her aunt and uncle, instead holding her book in her hands and letting her aunt carry her out of the room. The disruption had distracted the other two boys, and their eyes followed her out of the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Thomas questioned.

"She's a girl. We never know what's wrong," John spoke, and the two siblings laughed. Arthur rolled his eyes. His nephews were completely oblivious.

* * *

 _ **9 October 1534**_

It was a perfect, autumn day. No rain had appeared and no clouds were present in the sky. The leaves on the trees were an array of reds, yellows, oranges, and browns, and some piles of leaves sat at the base of the trees. It was not warm, but it was not cold either. Grace could no longer ignore his majesty, her father organizing a hunt which she had to participate in according to her elder brothers. She grumbled under her breath while they pushed her into her rooms to get changed, banging on the doors ten minutes later when she appeared to have not gotten ready yet.

When Grace emerged from her chambers, she wore a unique riding outfit. Her father, instead of having an instructor teach her how to ride side-saddle, had urged his daughter to ride astride like the men did. Some women also learned to do so, but many either sat side-saddle or behind a man which they would hold on to during the ride. Grace's outfit consisted of cream breeches under a yellow open skirt which showed the pants underneath. This gave her more room to move while also concealing the pants until she mounted her horse. Her bodice was also a bright yellow, tying at the front, while she wore a cream under shirt under the material. It looked just like any other dress until the riding pants underneath were revealed. Her hair was pulled back into a simple braid, no net holding it in place or a hat to shield her eyes from the sun. Grace's cross necklace was the only piece of jewelry she wore that day as she preferred not to wear expensive jewels while riding.

Walking into the courtyard behind her brothers, Grace was whispering threats to them under her breath. Thankfully, no one except her brothers heard, her father, Suffolk, and the king having already mounted their horses. Grooms held the Neville siblings steeds, Arthur adjusting his position in the saddle as he too had mounted his horse. The king had insisted the young boy come as he was entertaining to him and since he had no sons of his own. He sometimes wondered what it would like to have a son now, a son who could enjoy the same activities as his father. Alas, Catherine had given him no such child and now Henry was waiting for Anne to perform her sole duty as queen.

Waving the groom aside, Grace pulled herself onto the back of a black stallion, a temperamental creature that even Warwick himself would not ride sometimes. The horse was much too rambunctious for Warwick and the stallion seemed to dislike men, biting and kicking whenever a man would ride him. However, the steed seemed quite comfortable with Grace on his back, nickering to her as she signaled for him to begin walking forward.

"My lords, your majesty," Grace spoke as she passed the older men. She bowed her head in respect, but kept her horse walking forward. She did not want to speak to his majesty at all and it was quite clear. Suffolk smiled at her stubbornness and when he turned to look at his friend, all he saw was content in the king's eyes. He was not upset like the duke had expected, but was quite cheerful at her appearance. Perhaps not seeing anyone for three days would garner the same reaction as the king.

The king then kicked his horse forward, signaling the beginning of the hunt. All riders followed as well as groomsmen and guards who would be on foot during the ride. The king was not only content, but relieved that Grace had appeared from what he would call a "personal confinement to her rooms." He had known his arrival would cause her to be upset, but not to the point where she would completely ignore him. He was used to women practically throwing themselves at him, but not this girl. Not Grace. Anne had been the same way, first stating that she did not deserve his attention and that she would not be his mistress because of the fate of her sister. But eventually, she had given in to his gifts and letters, most likely pushed on by her brother and father to do so. But Anne had not been a mistress. She was his queen now and had been at his side for the past nine years, only completely giving in when she was certain their marriage would not be prevented.

Though there were similarities between Grace and Anne, Grace was most certainly not going to give in to his majesty's pleas anytime soon, and he knew that. He relished in the fact that she did not want to be chased, that she did not want to be around him, that she did not want him. He was pursuing a woman who wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps that's what spurred his attraction to her, because she treated him like a man, not a king or a god. Just a man.

The group set off into the forest, going along marked paths and searching for any deer or other animals to hunt. Grace stayed at the front of the group along with his majesty and Suffolk, though Suffolk separated the two by placing himself in between them. He was quite impressed with her expert riding skills. Most women tended to stay at the back of the group, preferring the men to do the work while they watched. Grace however proved him wrong, her eyes steadily scanning the thicket for any sign of movement. Arthur trailed behind his sister, his bow and arrow at the ready. Warwick and his other three sons were behind the four, also searching as well as chatting among one another. A herd of deer was then spotted in an open field, Arthur seeing the animals first. He was the first to take off, his sister right on his heels. No yell or other sound was made to show that the animals had been seen, Suffolk and the king quite confused when they saw the siblings ride away in a flash.

Warwick laughed, loudly saying to his majesty, "Sibling rivalry, my lord. Always a competition with those too." The king and Suffolk laughed, all the men then spurring their horses after the two or running to keep up with the hunt. The king could see that Grace was gaining on her brother, riding low in the saddle while she readied her bow and arrow. Arthur was obviously frustrated that his sister was more composed than he was, her having more experience and having hunted more often than he. Before he knew it, Grace had chosen her target, breaking away from him and going after a stag that had headed in a separate direction than the others. Arthur grunted in annoyance, upset that his sister had a better eye than him. She strung the arrow, pulled back, and released, hitting the neck of the stag efficiently, The animal dropped to the ground, dead. Grace let out a victorious smile while her brother arrived to the scene still irritated that he had not been able to kill the stag first.

The other men in the group had seen Grace's wonderful shot, but had pursued a group of deer on their own. Richard, John, and Christian as well as Warwick had all stayed behind his majesty and Suffolk, wishing for the king to take down a stag rather than themselves so as to inflate the king's masculinity so to speak. No one could outshine the king, not even Grace.

However, the men were so focused on the hunt that they barely realized when a lone boar emerged from the woods, its loud grunting filling the air and its menacing tusks glaring at them. It charged towards them, many calling for his majesty to halt as they were, but it was too sudden. He didn't even realize what was going on until he saw the threatening creature right in front of him. A few more feet and its tusks would either pierce the horse or his leg.

Two arrows spiraled through the air, one hitting the boar right between the eyes while the other pierced its eye. The men let out gasps of breath that they were holding in, frightened at the prospect at what could have happened to their king. Suffolk immediately went to the king, placing his hand on his shoulder and asking if he was alright. The king stared dumbfounded at the boar in front him, his head turning to catch Grace and her brother riding up toward the group, bows in hand. Grace's face was a deadly white, her eyes glued to the dead boar. Meanwhile, Arthur looked more contained, heading towards his father and brothers while Grace stayed at the edge of the group. She was in shock, complete and utter shock that the King of England could have been fatally injured in a split second.

"Lady Grace," the king spoke as he turned to her, "I am in yours and your brother's debt." He could barely speak those words, his usually loud and authoritative voice merely above a whisper. He was filled with this ominous feeling, overtaken by the idea of death. "Perhaps we should return to Warwick Castle. Lord Warwick?" Warwick could only nod, also terrified at the idea of what might have happened. The group turned their horses back towards the castle, the groomsmen and guards carrying the nobles' prizes back.

Everyone is quiet, only the sounds of hooves hitting the ground and the sounds of nature filtering through the air. The excitement, or perhaps terror of the afternoon had affected them all and returning back to the castle was accepted with no protest. Grace rode next to her father at the front while the king, Suffolk, and her brothers followed behind. She was still white, her hands shaking from shock. Out of concern, she stared back at the king over her shoulder. He wasn't looking at her, but instead, was speaking to Suffolk.

The king was relieved when Warwick suggested they return to the castle. He was in a state of numbness, not quite comprehending what had happened to him. Suffolk was trying to reassure his majesty as they rode back, but his words went right through his ears. His country was in his hands and could have been changed in the split of a second. It made him that much more desperate to have a male heir ad to continue his reformation. Feeling eyes on him, he caught Grace looking at him. She didn't look away, but frowned before turning forward again. He smiled. The apparent ignoring was now over and concern took over. The king had gotten under her skin whether Grace liked it or not.

* * *

 _ **10 October 1534**_

After the traumatic experience from yesterday, Grace had again decided to exclude herself, instead choosing to walk in the gardens surrounding the castle instead of remaining inside to entertain the king. It was much more peaceful outside, a light breeze in the air. Grace wore a red kirtle with a golden leaf design with a paisley green and gold gown on top. The edge of the material was lined with black velvet and gold pieces. Again, the only piece of jewelry she wore was her gold cross.

In her hands Grace held _Utopia_ , rereading it once again. She missed her uncle dearly, but she wouldn't dare ask the king for permission to visit him. She'd be pushing him too far and she didn't want to talk to him anyways. She walked silently on the gravel, remembering what it was like when More was the 2nd most powerful man in England, the king being the first, and he had the king's love. Now, everything was different.

While Grace was walking in the gardens, the men just so happened to be standing on the balcony overlooking the beautiful landscape. The elder Nevilles men were talking with the king and Suffolk whilst their wives and children played below in the garden. The king admired that the family was so close. He wished Anne would accept Mary so they all could be a family, but that would never happen. Mary was a threat to Elizabeth's legitimacy and the succession to the throne. They could never be a family like the Nevilles. They were the royal family of England after all.

The king sipped from his wine-filled chalice, watching Grace intently. He immediately spotted the book he returned to her in April, making him feel guilty for imprisoning More once again. But, he plastered a smile on his face and continued listening to the conversation, that is until he changed the subject.

"Warwick, how old is your daughter?" The question surprised Richard, but he didn't show it.

"Twenty, your majesty. She will be twenty-one in March," Warwick replied, wondering where the conversation was going.

"Has she had many suitors?" the king questioned, Christian snorting rather childishly.

"Several, my lord, but Grace has a way of scaring them off," Christian revealed, him and his brothers chuckling amongst themselves. Warwick frowned. It was not Grace's fault she was so hot-headed and opinionated. The suitors he had all picked out were simply uninteresting to Grace and they were "boys" she said, not "men" and certainly not men that she could see herself marrying or baring children to.

"Henry Parker, Lady Jane Boleyn's brother was considered as well as Richard Devereux, Henry Grey, and Henry Seymour, but the matches fell through. She didn't like them and I do not want my daughter to marry unless she wants to. My wife made that quite clear before she died. All my of children's marriages were love matches. I'd like to keep it that way."

"I see," the king spoke. "Your wife loved her children dearly. The queen is the same with Elizabeth. But, we live in a world where alliances must be made for security and love is rarely considered a factor in the match." The king had a thoughtful look on his face as he spoke, considering he had once loved Catherine though their marriage was a political match. And now, he had divorced Catherine for Anne, a marriage made completely for love and want of a male heir.

"Excuse me gentlemen," the king spoke, all bowing as he exited the balcony. "I'd like to take a walk in the gardens. Suffolk?" Suffolk followed behind him loyally, Warwick wondering what the king was up to. The pair walked into the gardens side by side, passing by the rest of Warwick's family who all bowed in respect to the king. Warwick could not hear the two and as they walked farther and farther away, he could barely see their forms. And as he searched the garden further, he could not see Grace anywhere at all.

"Arthur," Warwick spoke down from the balcony. The youngest Neville looked up at his father, a questioning look on his face. Warwick bobbed his head in the direction of the garden. Realizing his father wanted him to follow, Arthur nodded his head in understanding and took off into the gardens. If anyone could keep an eye on Grace without being seen, it would be Arthur.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Grace, the king had walked into the same part of the garden as she. Her feet crunched against the gravel and her eyes stared intently at the words in her book. He stood there at an opening in the hedge bushes that formed a maze within the garden. They were much like the palace gardens, hiding people from the view of others and concealing court secrets that often led to gossip.

The king cleared his throat, making his presence known. Grace's eyes lifted from her book and though her face wished to make a sour expression, it remained unreadable. She closed her book, curtsying to the king. "Majesty," she spoke, "Is there something you need?"

Henry, ever so confident, strode out to meet Grace, holding his hand out to lift her from her curtsy. She allowed him to do so, but he did not release her, moving his hands from her own hands to grasp her shoulders and pull her closer. Grace wished to protest, but knew she would irritate him if she did so and her father would be angered as well.

"Grace," the king spoke, and she flinched at his soft tone. He had just called her by her first name and it concerned her. She brought her eyes up from the ground to meet his. "Grace, I wish to ask you something of the utmost importance and I do not wish to offend you by doing so, but I wish to admire you, worship you, and care for you." Grace looked at the king in utter shock, trying to back away from the king, but he held her tightly. "I wish to ask if you would be my mistress, my only mistress, my maitresse en titre. I will give you everything you want and need within my power. I want you Grace, with every fiber in my being I want you to be mine and only mine." Grace said nothing, making the king lift her chin up with his hand so she would look at him. He was nervous, but sure Grace would accept. Who would refuse him? Refuse his offer? He would do anything for her and within time, he knew he would be in love with her and she in love with him. "Grace?"

Grace had so many thoughts rushing through her head. Her eyes looked anywhere, but at the king, though her chin was still grasped firmly in his hand. She couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe. She felt as if the world was closing in around her. What her father think? What would her uncle think? What should she say. What would her father want her to say?

"Majesty I…I…" Grace could hardly speak, but then, she thought about Catherine, about Mary, and about Anne. And then Grace's face turned indignant. "No," she said steadfastly. "Majesty I cannot and will not be your mistress." She yanked her face out of the king's hold, her hands in fists at her side. The king was not expecting her to say no, and he looked quite stunned at her refusal.

"I have offended you," the king spoke plainly, taking in Grace's appearance.

"Majesty, I will be no mistress to any man or any king. My maidenhead is for my husband and he alone shall have it," Grace conveyed coldly. She gritted her response out through her teeth.

"Grace…" the king said, but she would not let him finish. She did not realize that his temper was beginning to flare and he struggled to control himself.

"This is a game to you, isn't it majesty? You find some noble's daughter, think you can have your fun with her, and then cast her aside. I am not just any noble's daughter and I think you know that majesty. You have my uncle imprisoned in the tower for charges that are false." Grace was furious as she talked to the king while he looked annoyed at her response. She had refused him and given him an insulting reason as to why she was doing so. "And I will not betray her majesty." The king had no clue to who she was referring to, whether it was Catherine, Anne, or Mary, but it did not matter. She had flat out rejected his offer.

"I do not think of you like that Grace," the king said, once again addressing her informally. "I would never think of you like that. You do not mean what you said." The king, though forceful in his speech, was giving Grace an opportunity to correct her behavior. But she did no such thing.

"Yes, I mean every word that I said. I tend to speak exactly what's on my mind, unless that is sorry. And now, seeing as I am inclined to apologize for my refusal, I say so now out of formality and not because I am truly so." Grace lowered herself into a curtsy, the king standing before her with an exasperated expression gracing his features. This woman was infuriating.

"Lady Neville," the king muttered as he passed by her, leaving Grace there in a curtsy. She raised herself up, watching as the king departed. However, before he disappeared from view, he spared one last look at Grace who was now standing. She met his gaze boldly, lifting her chin up in a sort of victory, before turning on her heels and promenading away. It made the king even more incensed, but it also made him want her more. Grace had no idea what she had just done. The king would have his way whether he was forceful about it or not.

* * *

Arthur had seen all that occurred between his sister and the king, hurrying back to his father before either spotted him. Both had not seen him as he stayed hidden behind the bushes and listened quietly instead of inching closer to where he would be spotted. When he reached his father, his face was red and he was breathing a little heavier since he had sprinted back before either of them returned to view.

Warwick heard his son slam into the room where the balcony was, taking in his ragged breathing and red face. He had not expected his son to have hurried back frantically, but Arthur's troubled look made him think his son had a good reason to behave so. 'She refused father, she refused the king," Arthur blurted out. The Neville sons all looked to their father for a response, their eyes widening as their youngest brother conveyed the news. No one refused the king for there were always consequences in doing so.

"There will be no word of this. Act as if nothing has happened," Warwick muttered sharply. All his sons nodded, heeding the hidden warning in their father's words. "We must be extra careful. Do not act any different to the king or your sister. They cannot know that we know. I will speak to your sister later on the matter." It was of the utmost importance that none of them displease the king now that Grace had refused his offer. If they did so, their time at court could end and More's life would be threatened more than ever. Warwick just hoped he could shake some sense into his daughter and that she could keep the king's eye on her, no matter what she wanted.

* * *

It was late when Grace was called to her father's study. She had no idea why. She hadn't mentioned anything to him or her brothers about the confrontation with the king. When the page knocked on her door, she had already put her nightgown on and donned a robe for decency. She was surprised, raising her eyebrows at the page's request. She went immediately, telling the page he was excused for the evening.

Grace didn't bother to knock as she entered her father's study, instead opening the door quietly and leaning up against it as she looked at her father. Warwick was going over accounts for the estates, his eyes flickering over the parchment when his daughter entered. He didn't speak for a few minutes, finishing up his reading before setting the record down, a serious look on his face.

"Do you realize what you have done to jeopardize this family? To jeopardize your uncles' future?" Warwick spoke, his tone deadly. This was one of the few times Grace was afraid of her father when his angry, the other being when she was little and had accidently destroyed a portrait of her Uncle Richard Neville, the last Earl of Warwick.

"What do you mean?" Grace questioned, her voice wavering. She wouldn't meet her father's eyes.

"Dammit Grace," Warwick yelled, slamming his hands on the desk in anger. "Do not act stupid with me. I know what goes on in my home, whether it's supposed to be a secret or not. And this, your interaction with the king, should certainly have been shared with me. You acted indecent…"

"I acted indecent?" Grace interrupted. "He's the one who asked me to commit a sin against God, to go against my loyalty to the queen, and to give up what you have told me to treasure. I have done nothing wrong."

"You have, and you know it. You should have told him you would think about it," Warwick said, referring to the king. "You should have come to me and asked me what to do."

"I'm not a child. I knew what I was doing," Grace retorted.

"Clearly, you didn't." Warwick crossed his hands across his chest, fuming at his daughter's words. "You must be careful now. We all must be careful. And you must keep the king's attention on you."

Grace's eyes about popped out of her head when Warwick said that. "No," she spoke. "You can't make me."

"You will do as I tell you. You have a duty to this family and as your father, I suggest you do as I tell you," Warwick stated. He was silent, ignoring his daughter as he eyes looked over the other papers on his desk. "You may leave now," he said. Grace scoffed at the fact that he needed to give her permission to leave, rolled her eyes, and exited the room.

* * *

After speaking with her father, Grace exited his chambers quite furious. She slammed the door to his chambers, the loud sound echoing through the castle, and hastened down the hall to her own rooms. However, a figure emerged from the shadows, scaring her. She let out a relieved sigh when she realized it was just Charles and not the king.

"Charles," Grace spoke, informally addressing him, "I'm sorry. Did I wake you with my outburst?" she questioned, now having the decency to look embarrassed by her actions and worried that perhaps the king had heard her. Charles had asked her to call him by his first name when they were alone, his wife and her having become very good friends. He had promised Catherine to watch out for Grace much like he watched for his wife when she was at court. The court men were snakes and needed to be monitored for a pretty lady always attracted their attention.

"No," Charles spoke. "I was just returning to my rooms after I talked to his majesty." He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her reaction. She said nothing, waiting for what she expected to hear. She braced herself for her temporary banishment from court, but Charles said differently.

"His majesty expects you to return to court in two weeks time, after you visit the Princess Elizabeth at Hatfield. You will then return to court with the princess as a surprise for her mother and will return to your duties as a lady-in-waiting to her majesty," Charles revealed. Grace was utterly bewildered at what Charles had just told her.

"What?" Grace questioned. "Are you sure you heard him correctly?" Her face betrayed her confusion, her eyes blinking rapidly and her forehead creasing.

"Yes, Grace," Charles replied. "Why?" he asked. He had heard the king correctly and had made mention for Charles to act as if he had not heard any of their conversation. Charles played the role well, portraying to Grace that he had no clue what had happened when in reality, he too had been close by when the conversation took place. He had been worried for Grace at first, but when the king returned to him with a look of determination, he was even more concerned. The king's rage was something to fear, but being the obsession of a king was much more frightening.

"Nothing," Grace spoke, supposing Charles had no idea what had transpired between her and the king. "Nothing at all. Tell his majesty I will do as he asks and I will see him off with the rest of my family when you leave tomorrow. Goodnight Charles." She nodded to him as she headed towards her rooms, unaware of just how much the Duke of Suffolk truly knew and what the king had in store for her.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Thank you all to all my favs/followers! Next chapter is up.**

 **Ch. 8**

* * *

" _ **Doubt thou the stars are fire,**_

 _ **Doubt that the sun doth move,**_

 _ **Doubt truth to be a liar,**_

 _ **But never doubt I love."**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare, Hamlet**_

* * *

 _ **Hatfield 20 October 1534**_

Grace had arrived at Hatfield 10 days after his majesty and Suffolk had left. Their departure was met with relief by Grace and yet, Warwick was still cautious. Ever so polite to his majesty, Warwick thanked his majesty for his visit and urged him to come back anytime he wished to. Grace rolled her eyes at that, standing off to the side of the men with her nieces, nephews, sisters-in-laws, and Arthur. John and Thomas had been oblivious to everything going on in their Aunt's and other relatives' lives. For Nevilles, they didn't quite have that observant nature the previous generation had. Arthur was a prime example of that most gifted skill, analyzing the way his sister stood to the way the king couldn't keep his eye off her for more than a few seconds. And Grace, remaining the stubborn woman she was, gave no attention to the king, keeping her eyes straightforward.

The king mounted his steed, Suffolk following suit. The guards also mounted, before waiting for their king at the opening in the castle walls. "I thank you Warwick for your hospitality," he spoke. "I shall like to visit again." Warwick nodded at his majesty's words, bowing in respect. Henry then kicked his horse forward again, this time turning his horse towards the gate. "Lady Grace," he said before his horse was completely turned around.

"Majesty," Grace said in a monotone voice, herself as well as the other women around her curtsying to the king. He smiled, her stubbornness endearing to him.

"I shall see you in two weeks' time. My wife cannot be without her favorite for long." And with that, the king spurred his horse into a gallop. Grace rolled her eyes at that, disappearing into the castle with no second glance towards the king.

Currently, Grace was dismounting her horse and approaching the entrance to Hatfield. Lady Bryan had been alerted of her new position as her majesty's lady and personal caretaker of Princess Elizabeth in her mother's absence. She as well as some of Elizabeth's ladies stood in front of Hatfield, all bowing to her in respect.

"Lady Neville," Lady Bryan spoke, "We are most pleased at your arrival. Please come inside. The princess has just woken from her nap." Grace nodded and followed Lady Bryan inside. Her eyes flitted over the ladies, analyzing each one. She disliked how young and clueless they were. Some even looked the same age as her brother. It was silly. None of them even looked like they cared about taking care of the princess, only that they held a prestigious position that their father or other relatives had acquired for them. Grace shook her head at that. She would need to talk to Lady Bryan about that.

Passing by an open doorway, Grace say movement out of the corner of her eye and halted. There Mary stood, a small smile on her face while she took in her friend's appearance. Court life suited her, even though she disliked it. Grace did the same, noticing Mary's loss of weight and color. She looked as if she were ill. She curtsied to her friend but was shocked to see all the other ladies passed without a glance towards Mary.

"Excuse you," Grace spoke, her voice echoing down the hall, "Have you ladies forgotten your manners. Curtsy to the Lady Mary."

"But she is the king's bastard, my lady. We do not curtsy to her," one of the ladies said, her eyes betraying her naïve nature.

"How dare you, how dare you all. Illegitimate or not, Lady Mary is still the king's daughter and you will give her the respect she deserves." Grace's tone was sharp, and the ladies cowered at her voice. "Curtsy. Now." Grace gritted through her teeth. She had never been so furious at such a blatant display of disrespect.

The ladies all curtsied, their faces all turned towards the ground in embarrassment. "It would be best if you all remembered your places. Their majesties would not be pleased if I told them of your disrespect." They all nodded, remaining in their curtsies while Grace dragged Mary behind her to follow Lady Bryan. The governess had seen all but said nothing. She merely led Grace to Princess Elizabeth's nursery.

Upon reaching the nursery, Grace smiled at the precious child who was standing up in her crib. At over a year old, Elizabeth had truly come into her looks. She held the trademark Tudor red hair, but she had her mother's sharp, dark eyes. She was a perfect combination of her parents. Reaching down, Grace lifted the princess into her arms and cooed at her. "How is she Lady Bryan? Is she eating well? Is she trying to talk now? IS she walking?" Grace questioned.

"Of course, my Lady. She is a credit to their majesties in every way. She grows every day and is learning quite quickly," lady Bryan spoke.

"Good," Grace replied, "That is what her majesty would like to hear." She bounced Elizabeth on her hip, making the princess laugh in delight. "I'd like to take a walk in the gardens with the Princess and the Lady Mary, alone."

"Of course," Lady Bryan said. She eyed Lady Mary, hesitant about letting the two women speak alone. She waved her arms toward the door that led to the gardens, letting the two women walk on their own. She watched from a distance though, Princess Elizabeth's ladies following behind.

The group of three walked outside for a few moments, Grace noticing Lady Bryan following them. She acted as if she were making small talk with Mary, but she was warning her not to say anything until they were out of earshot. She did not need anyone reporting to their majesties of their private conversations.

When they rounded the corner of the garden, Mary practically collapsed into Grace's arms, her friend holding her as tightly as she could while holding Elizabeth in her arms. Mary was crying, so relieved to see her friend after so many months of separation.

"You have no idea what it's like to be here and be ignored," Mary cried to Grace. "I hate it here and I hate that whore for doing this to me." Grace could only nod her head and hold her friend. She said nothing. She couldn't. She had no idea how it was Anne's fault she was in this situation. It was more the king's fault in her eyes. Yes, Anne favored her daughter above Mary, but that did not mean she wished Mary any ill.

"Mary, I think this is more of your father's doing than hers," Grace spoke.

"How can you say that? She's the reason why they never acknowledge me. She pretended to be kind to me and return me to court but asked me to declare my parents' marriage invalid in order to do so. I will not bow to the king's mistress. My mother is the true queen of England," Mary spoke.

"And it is your stubbornness that continues to keep you here, Mary. I do not understand your situation, but I do know that the king loves you. Why else would he let me be here if he did not love you?" Grace responded. "He knows that I support you and yet he still lets me come here. Even she knows that."

"That may be so, but you've forgotten that my father only allows you to do so because he wants to bed you." Mary was cold to Grace as she spoke.

Grace tensed up immediately and Elizabeth, noticing the friction, began to cry. Grace looked between Elizabeth and Mary, trying to comfort the child as well as to come up with some type of answer to Mary's insult. Instead, she shook her head at Mary and took her leave, saying nothing about her friend's insult. She had hoped that her time with Mary would be well spent, but instead, Mary took her frustration out on Grace.

Now, Grace was beginning to tear up at her friend's comment, soaking in the truth. Yet, even if it was the truth, Grace would use it to her advantage no matter what the price.

* * *

For the next two days, Grace stayed out of Mary's sight, choosing instead to spend the majority of her time managing Elizabeth's household and spending time with the princess. She was a dear to spend time with, always pointing at everything that interested and laughing at the slightest thing. If she ever had a child, when and if that would happen, she hoped it would be just like the princess.

Grace had also dismissed some of the ladies for their ignorance and lack of performance. Lady Bryan merely pursed her lips and let her do as she pleased. She knew that Grace held favor with the queen and she had some idea of how much the king favored her. All the staff at Hatfield did, though they did not know the extent of that.

Grace stood at the entrance to Hatfield, Elizabeth in her arms as she went over with Lady Bryan a new routine her majesty had suggested as well as when tutors would need to start coming to Hatfield. If they began her learning early, she would be able to absorb more information quicker. Mary was nowhere in sight as she had been for the past two days. Grace frowned at the idea that she would not see her friend before she left. She would hate to leave without resolving their argument.

Passing Elizabeth back to Lady Bryan, Grace made her way towards her horse. She hated to see Elizabeth start to fuss, but she had been requested at court and an order was an order. The head groom held the creature securely within his grasp and helped Grace mount, bowing to her after she had done so. Holding the reigns, she readjusted herself before turning her attention back to the entrance of Hatfield.

Mary was there, standing behind the other ladies. Grace let a relieved smile appear on her face. Mary had forgiven her, even if she had not spoken to her directly. Mary being there was enough. Grace gave a great wave before turning to the road. She and her party headed to Richmond Palace where the king had surprisingly decided to hold court. She hoped God would give her the strength to continue her time at court, for she knew she would not survive without it.

* * *

 _ **Richmond Palace 11 November 1534**_

The Tudor Court had moved to Richmond Palace, a magnificent residence of the royal family based in Surrey. It had been Henry VII's pride and joy, and he had died there in 1509. Henry tended to keep his court at Whitehall, the Tower of London, or Greenwich, but it was time to relocate to Richmond Palace. It had been forgotten for so long and now, Henry wished to revisit the past. The stone moated keep of Henry V still remained, Henry VII adding red brick lodging to increase the number of guests that could comfortably room there. Glass galleries had also been added, a rarity for that time.

In the queen's chambers, Anne paced in front of the fire place. Henry barely talked to her now. He visited once a day as per usual and he acted just as normal as ever, but it wasn't the same, not since the loss of the baby. He didn't seek out her company as much, preferring to spend time with his men rather than her and her ladies. Although, she had seen his eye wander onto some pretty, vacant 18-year-old which she handled quite quickly. The girl was gone within a week of the king noticing her. Henry did not seem to care.

Anne felt disoriented. Mr. Cromwell was pushing ahead the Reformation. He had dissolved the Observant Friars, Catherine's favorite religious group, and their chapel had been destroyed in October. Anne was happy at the slight towards Catherine, but the destruction of religious houses seemed unnecessary. It should have been put to good use and used for other purposes other than religion. She had two pregnancies in the past two years, one being Elizabeth and the other a miscarriage. She had been in confinement once and now, she was walking around aimlessly for hours wondering what it would be like to have had her son alive in her arms instead of that dreadful miscarriage. And yet, there was some good news. The French admiral would come to court, though when the king told her so, she'd acted unqueenly as the king had said that Suffolk would receive the ambassador and not Lord Boleyn.

Thankfully, Grace had been there, reaching for the queen's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze as a warning. She knew that their relationship was rocky and if the queen was too outspoken, the king's anger would be aroused. The king turned to Anne, waiting for an answer, but instead of replying why she thought her father should receive the French ambassador, she merely smiled and spoke, "Excuse me, majesty. You are right. Suffolk would be the most appropriate choice." She turned her attention back to the play, not before noticing how the king's eyes flitted over Grace for a moment. His eyes softened from their hard stare that seemed to be reserved for the queen lately. But, they didn't argue and that's what mattered.

Suffolk noticed how Grace had restrained the queen from her normal behavior. He was quite impressed. Grace had not only contained the queen's temper but prevented an outburst from the king as well. She handled the situation with ease and grace that not even Catherine had held when she dealt with her husband.

That event had happened a couple weeks ago and now the queen was dealing with something similar. She and the king sat at the head of the banquet table, the French admiral as their guest of honor. Anne's father and brother sat on either side of their majesties. Anne was quite annoyed with the admiral's slights towards her. She thought he was arrogant and quite prideful, though many Frenchmen acted so. She also noticed that the king's mood had darkened since Grace was dancing with two men, Anne's cousin Henry Howard and John Paulet, the High Sheriff of Hampshire. Both would be good matches, but Anne knew her heart wasn't in courting either man. Grace's father had arranged for Grace to meet the two men while Anne pushed her to court each man to further the king's attention. She had no idea if Grace knew her true intentions, but if she did, she said nothing to the queen.

"Some wine?" Anne heard the king ask the admiral. Henry had definitely turned his charm on for the evening while he entertained his guest. For being quite angry with Francis in his delay of negotiations, Henry betrayed nothing. A perfect smiled was plastered on his face as he spoke.

"Of course. Which domain does it come from? Is it Bordeaux?" The admiral questioned.

"This is English wine," Henry answered, a bit irritated at such a question. His eyes lowered to the dance floor for a moment, but the look was so fleeting that Anne didn't even notice.

"English wine?" the admiral asked in a slightly bewildered tone.

"We have been making wine in England since the Romans," Henry responded with pride.

"As recently as that?" Henry chuckled at his words to make the conversation less awkward. A servant leans over, filling the admiral's chalice with wine. He takes a sip. "Tres biens. It's very fruity. And strong like a gladiator's sweat." Anne and the Boleyns watched intently. Henry laughed sat the Frenchmen's words, but he was insulted. Meanwhile, Anne practically chugs her wine down in a very unladylike manner. She sighs and turns back to the men.

"Who is that gentleman?" Henry questioned, wanting to direct attention away from his wife.

"My secretary, Monsieur Gontier," the admiral spoke.

"I should like to introduce him to my wife. Excuse me." Henry rises from his chair and heads for the admiral's secretary. Both Anne and Lord Boleyn know exactly what he is doing for on his way to the secretary, he passes by Grace who is dancing with Henry Howard.

The admiral tries to make conversation with the queen. "Your Majesty must forgive me for not being able to attend the banquet you arranged in my honor." Anne nods, not bothered anymore since she is more focused on her husband who is flirting with the admiral's secretary's niece. "It was most unfortunate but His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, and his charming wife have kept me a virtual prisoner in their castle. I was, how shall I say? Imprisoned by affection." Anne begins to laugh over excessively, drawing attention to herself. But she is not laughing at the admiral, but at her husband's over the top flirting and Grace's nonchalant attitude. She knows that Grace is in full view of his majesty and her husband's intentions to make Grace jealous did not work in the slightest bit.

"Madam? Are you amusing yourself at my expense?" the admiral questioned, a bit vexed at the queen's behavior. Anne's brother and father both turn to look at Anne, concerned with her actions.

"Forgive me, monsieur. I couldn't help laughing at the king's proposition of introducing your secretary to me. For, whilst he was finding him, he met that pretty lady and forgot the whole thing." Anne pointed in the direction of where the king was while she spoke, scoffing at the whole thing.

The king then appeared behind the admiral. "Let's talk some business," he exclaimed, the two men rising and heading to the king's private chambers. Anne watched them, still fuming from what she just saw. Lord Boleyn looked to his daughter, disappointed, and Anne rolled her eyes at his intent stare.

The king and the admiral head to the king's chambers to discuss marriage negotiations. A page opens the door to his chambers, before closing the door behind them as well as Mr. Cromwell. "What instructions do you have from your master with regard to the betrothal of my daughter Elizabeth to the Duke of Angoulême?" the king questioned. He walks to the opposite side of the table, putting space between him and the admiral. Cromwell remains by the door, watching the two.

"His Majesty regrets that such a proposition is impossible." The admiral gives no reason why it is impossible. He just makes the statement as if it is a fact.

"Why impossible?" Henry holds out his arms in confusion.

Much as he loves your majesty, the king cannot agree to betroth his beloved son to a to," the admiral hesitantly says," To a bride whose legitimacy is not accepted by His Holiness Pope Paul. By Holy Church itself. Nor even by the emperor." Cromwell looks antsy, watching for Henry's temper. "However, His Majesty to demonstrate his love, proposes another match. He would consent to the betrothal of the dauphin to Lady Mary, your legitimate daughter." Henry scoffs at such a notion while the admiral continues speaking. He looks to Cromwell in disbelief. "If you do not agree to the match, my master will marry his son to the emperor's daughter, leaving your country isolated in Europe." Henry's face remains blank and he looks to Cromwell to escort their rude guest out of his chambers.

"Excellence, your audience with His Majesty is now over." The page opened the door, Cromwell and the page bowing to the admiral as he leaves. Henry is enraged, but silent. This is what scared Cromwell the most. He could take the yelling, but his majesty's silence was much more threatening to him. Suddenly, Henry licks the palm of his hand and extinguishes one of the candles out in anger. He grits his teeth in pain as well as fury. Cromwell is fearful, for the king's anger ruled him. The lion had been unleashed yet again.

* * *

Henry remained in his chambers the remainder of the evening, making Anne wonder what had happened. She feared he was with a mistress or that the meeting with the admiral had gone terribly wrong. After the festivities for the evening had ended, Anne made her way to the king's chambers. Grace was the only lady with her. She was distrustful of the others at the moment for they would gossip amongst themselves if they heard her conversation with the king.

Henry heard the door to his chambers open and light footsteps made their way towards him. "Wait for me Grace," he heard Anne speak. He remained forward in his chair in front of the fireplace, but Anne's words peaked his interest. The door shut, leaving the married couple alone. They can both hear a dog barking in the distance. Anne approached him, coming to stand behind him and spoke, "Who was she?"

"Who was who?" Henry questions in a sharp tone.

"That lady you were talking to when you were supposed to be finding Monsieur Gontier." Anne is clearly jealous.

Henry sighs and rolls his eyes, not wanting to fight with Anne. "I don't know."

"Is she one of your mistresses?" Anne continues. Henry sighs and shakes his head. His answer is truthful, but Anne presses further. Now she directly stands in front of Henry, staring him down as she speaks. Henry sends her a warning look, but she does not heed it. "How many do you have? What are their names? Where do you keep them?" Henry remains silent while his wife interrogates him. He stares into the fire, trying to calm his raging nerves. "Someone told me your nobles, like Brandon are assisting you in having your affairs." Henry holds his hand up to halt her. He is finished with her behavior and is quite annoyed that she doesn't know when to stop.

"That's enough," Henry warns. His head is pulsing at this point, his mind rambling over the words he had with the admiral and his wife's accusations.

"No." Anne still presses him, her jealousy and paranoia getting the best of her. "No, you told me, you always told me that we should be truthful with each other. You said it was the definition of love."

Tired of her mouth, Henry finally addresses Anne's questions. "Then here's the truth. You must shut your eyes and endure, like your betters have done before you." His words were rude, but the complete truth. Catherine had never questioned his affairs if he was having any.

"How can you say that to me?" Anne says in shock. Her breathing quickens as she becomes angrier than before. "Don't you know I love you a thousand times more than Catherine ever did?" Anne is practically yelling at this point, her emotions getting the better of her.

"And don't you know that I can drag you down as quickly as I raised you?" Henry pushes himself up from his chair, yelling in Anne's face. His temper had been provoked. Anne still looked defiantly at him. "'Tis lucky you have your bed already, madam, because if you did not, I would not give it to you again." Henry goes to walk away from Anne but turns back. "Francis won't accept the betrothal." He finally reveals the reason why he is so quick to be irritated at that moment.

"Why?" Anne cries. She is most distraught at the news, confused as to why Francis would refuse.

"Why do you think? Because the Pope and he and the Emperor all agree she is a bastard. And you are not my wife." Henry practically spits the words out his mouth. He leaves Anne to her own devices while he stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Anne collapses in the chair Henry had previously occupied, overcome with disbelief.

* * *

When the door to the king's chambers slammed, Grace jumped at the noise. She was now alert, seeing the king standing in front of the door in a fit of rage. He hadn't seen her yet and she tried to press herself into the wall to prevent him from doing so. But her wish was not answered. His eyes met hers and though his demeanor changed, she could still see and feel the fire in his eyes. She had heard the whole conversation he had had with Anne. She believed Anne had been wrong to push him to the edge, but she knew if she were a wife and she suspected her husband of having an affair, she would act in the same manner. But, she also knew if the king was having an affair, he would have told the queen and as far as she was concerned, he had had no woman for quite some time.

"Majesty," Grace whispered, curtsying as he approached her. She was not scared, but cautious. After all, his temper was easy to provoke at the moment.

"Lady Neville," the king said. He knew she had heard everything, but he did not care. As he looked on her face, he saw no judgement. Merely understanding. He reached his hands down, pulling her up from her curtsy. "I never got to ask you how your visit to Hatfield was. How is my daughter?"

"She is perfect in every way majesty and she is growing like a weed," Grace remarked, a small smile on her face. "I did as the queen asked, replacing incompetent ladies with honorable ones and I also arranged a tutoring schedule for her. She is very bright, and she will learn quickly."

"That is good to hear," Henry replied. "I thank you Lady Neville. Our daughter's welfare has been carefully placed in your hands and I think there is no other lady who could do the job any better."

"Thank you majesty," Grace said. She had hoped his majesty would leave, but instead, Henry did something quite unexpected.

"Why can't I have you?" Henry whispered, his hands holding Grace's face gently in his palms. Grace was taken aback by the action. The king had never been this close and she was shaking.

"Because you're king." Grace's answer was simple and to the point. It struck him like a knife, cutting deep, and his heart sunk deep into the crevices of his chest.

"And if I were any other man, it would be different then how you treat me now?" the king pressed. Grace placed her hands over the king's, wondering how to respond to such a question.

"I don't know majesty," Grace uttered. Her eyes were staring into his and he saw how genuinely bemused she was.

"Henry…You may call me Henry when we are alone." The king moved his hands off of Grace's face, taking her hands in his and pressing a kiss to each. "Lady Grace," he spoke, bowing to her. He took his leave, Grace left in the hallway trying to understand what had transpired.

* * *

 _ **16 November 1534**_

Anne and her father were going over documents in her chambers when Mistress Madge knocked on the door. Grace was the only lady allowed in the room, going over her chores and practicing her needlepoint. Boleyn watched her from the corner of his eye, wary of her presence. Anne could still not convince him of her allegiance to them. "My Lady, your sister has come," Madge announced. Anne and Boleyn shared a confused look and were even more surprised to see Mary walk into the rooms with a bulging stomach, her pregnancy finally revealed. Grace rose from her seat, her eyes wide with shock. She was silent as she watched for a reaction from the queen and her father.

"Sister," Mary spoke, a smile on her face.

"Mary," Anne exclaimed, her eyes roaming over her sister's stomach.

"Your Majesty," Mary curtsied and kissed her sister's hand. Anne's expression was one of happy surprise while Boleyn analyzed his daughter. Grace was concerned. She knew exactly what had happened but had said nothing to Anne because of her promise to Mary Boleyn. "Lady Neville," Mary said to Grace, also curtsying to her. Grace's face turned a shade of white while Boleyn looked to her with a sharp glance.

"You are with child. How has it happened? We knew nothing," Anne spoke. She was not angry with her sister's condition but wondering how it had happened. Boleyn rose, a dark look on his face while he awaited his eldest daughter's answer.

"I'm married," Mary said as she placed her hands on her stomach. She turned to Grace, nodding her head at her to get her to come over. Grace walked over, holding her hand out to Mary in support. Anne and Boleyn both looked perplexed at the gesture. As far as they were concerned, Grace and Mary had never met nor had been in the same vicinity.

"Married? So, who is your husband?" Anne questioned, focusing back on her sister.

"My brother," Grace announced, "John." She looked directly at Boleyn as she spoke. "It is a good match, my brother and her." Anne was taken aback by the news, sitting down in her chair as she took in the news.

"And yet, she married without my permission," Boleyn spoke. "Does your father know?" he questioned Grace, his face turning red.

"Yes," Grace answered, staring back at Boleyn with a look of loathing in her eyes. She knew where this conversation was going.

"And yet I do not. How uncouth," Boleyn sneered.

"Your daughter has married the second son of a duke who will most likely earn his own title at court. And yet, you are unhappy because she did not tell you? She is a grown woman. She does not need to ask you for permission any longer," Grace gritted through her teeth. Anne looked on. She would never speak to her father in such a way and she was always scared to do so with the king.

"If you were my daughter..." Boleyn whispered in a deadly tone. He then directed his attention at Mary. "You are very much mistaken if you think I will allow you to insult me by leaving me in the dark about your courting and marriage."

"But father, since I love him and…"

"You married him in secret and without our approval," Boleyn angrily spit through his teeth. "I shall cut off your allowance and you're not to show your face at court until I or your queen shall say so. And I shall be writing to Warwick about this indiscretion."

"It does not matter. My father has given them one of his manors and my brother will provide for her," Grace spoke defiantly. "Majesty, you now the king would be quite confused at your father's anger towards your sister's marriage. I would be cautious."

"And I think you should be cautious," Boleyn threatened. Grace defiantly looked back at him, her nostrils flaring.

"And why is that?" Grace replied sassily, her eyebrows raising.

"I would be careful if I were you, Lady Neville. You and your family are overstepping your boundaries. Do not think to win the king's affections for I can tear you down just as quickly as he has raised you."

"He has not raised me. Your daughter has, and I am loyal to her and her alone." Grace stormed out of the room, most likely to her family chambers. She dragged Mary behind, not willing to let her stay with her snake of a father. Anne bit her lip. She had said nothing and stood behind her father. Her family was breaking apart because her father was consumed by pride and power. She buried her face in her hands. Everything was slipping away.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Thank you all to all my favs/followers! Sorry for such a wait on the update. Been busy with school and other things! Hello to invellichoris, Pink Crane, Tami Mikaelson, Arsynn, THatGurlx3, Imsweetness, SeleneMoon21, HuntressForTheWolves, sexyevilempress276, WanderlustReader, NymphadoraBlackMalfoy, MariaM95, TheladyqueenBee, kalira100, Farrell14, HermioneandMarcus, MollyBites, Brookeworm3, Nwllms007, quietcomedian, LegandsOfTime, Seithr-Kairy, koppe527, Kaahh R. Silva, LoveableHarleyQuinn, salvor04, Serenade Sailing, Salem and Arty the Cat, Serenity10116, RedPlanetGalaxy, LycanBeks, ankitahaldar, NotTellingYou5334, illowKP, teenytinytwilighter, LadyMalfoySnape, audra626, megane08, and CassidyCP.**

* * *

 **Ch. 9**

" _ **She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won."**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare, Henry VI Part 1 – Act 5, Scene 2**_

* * *

 _ **Richmond Palace 20 November 1534**_

The king was quite displeased when he heard the news of Mary's banishment. At first, he was perplexed at why Anne had dismissed her sister from court until Cromwell had informed him of her pregnancy. Then he understood why for Anne was probably jealous of her sister or Mary had no husband. Henry had cared for Mary when she had been his mistress, but he never truly loved her. Not like he loved Anne, not like how he was falling for Grace. It was like his love for Catherine, equivalent to that of a boy's love for a girl. After hearing such from Cromwell, he went to dismiss her letter, that is until Cromwell further informed him that Mary was indeed married and to John Neville for that matter. Anne had sent away her sister for marrying the son of a duke, Grace's elder brother, and that infuriated him.

Henry demanded that Cromwell send for Mary's and John's return to court if it pleased them and that the king sent his apologies for their forced leave from court. Of course, with Mary being pregnant it was probably more comfortable for her to remain at one of the manors belonging to the Nevilles and John would return to court for some time before her lying in or would stay with her if it pleased him. Of course, Henry knew their dismissal was not all Anne's doing. Boleyn most likely had something to do with it, embarrassed Henry guessed since he had not heard of the marriage until then. He supposed that Boleyn was also not informed of the marriage and had not arranged it at all. Henry would have felt slighted if in Boleyn's position, but then again, it was an advantageous match. Mary would be well cared for and Boleyn would have grandchildren descended from the Dukes of Warwick. But, that wasn't enough for Boleyn. It seemed his pride was more important than his daughter.

Henry was seemingly exhausted by the matters of European politics, having decided to take a ride with Brandon and some members of his court. Anne was not present. Henry had neither thought to invite her nor wanted her to come. The couple was still on bad ground and Henry avoided her when he could, still angry about her accusations against him. Yes, he was a man and he had needs, but he would be honest to her. He would not hide secrets from her, he would not lie. He still loved Anne, but sometimes the passion that once fueled their relationship turned to anger when she looked at him with those dark eyes and scolded him with her sharp tongue. Sometimes, he thought she would drive him to madness with her constant nagging and pushing all the time, but that was what came with marriage. What once appealed to him now seemed to drive him away when he was at the center of Anne's criticizing nature.

Having mounted his horse, Henry and Brandon were discussing the path they would take that day through the woods when Grace appeared. Henry had also not seen her since their encounter in the hallway. She had hidden herself from view, choosing instead to mingle among the shadows of court where Henry could not see her. And how beautiful he thought she looked at that moment. She had on a simple black riding gown with a white corset and white kirtle, quite a contrast to the bright colors many of the other ladies were wearing that day. She wore no hat again as she always did, her hair simple pulled back at the top and loose at the bottom so that it fell in curls on her shoulders. Pearls decorated the ensemble and were the only jewelry she wore. It seemed she had switched out her trademark cross necklace for the day.

As Grace walked across the stable yard, the other ladies of the court made their dislike of her apparent, sticking their noses up at her and gossiping among themselves. She was much different from them and they did not like it at all. None of Anne's ladies would ever treat her in such a way, but the wives of the courtiers she did not accompany everyday were quite vicious. Grace paid them no heed, instead holding her head and walking past them to the stables. It was then that henry directed his steed in front of her, halting her in her quest to obtain her horse.

"Your majesty," Grace spoke, lowering herself into a curtsy. Her eyes met his when she rose from her position, green meeting blue, and the pair were silent for a moment. Grace had no clue what to say and waited for the king to respond. She was still confused after their encounter a week before and she did not want to encourage his pursuit. However, Henry had other plans in mind, reaching his hand out towards her.

"Perhaps, my lady, you would give me the honor of riding with me today?" Henry questioned, chuckling at her dumbfounded expression.

"Majesty…I couldn't," Grace spoke. She knew exactly what the king was doing, making such a request in front of the court so that she could not refuse in any way to upset him. She also knew that gossip would occur because of his request. "I have my own horse to ride…" She was interrupted by the king.

"Lady Neville," the king muttered, this time his voice sounding more like a command than anything else. She glared up at him, her fierce gaze exciting him more than angering him. She took his hand boldly, allowing him to guide her up behind him on his horse. He was strong, pulling her up behind him with ease. The grooms didn't need to help Grace at all as she settled into the saddle quite easily, straddling the horse instead of riding side-saddle as all the other ladies did. Grace just sat that their, exasperated since he was making the situation quite difficult for her. "I suggest you hold on Lady Neville. We wouldn't want you falling off, now would we?" Henry grinned when she put her arms around his middle. He heard a small sound of discontent come from Grace, but he said nothing. He was pleased with his small victory and when he turned to Brandon, he saw his friend wink. At him or Grace, Henry did not know whom the wink was directed at. He kicked his steed lightly, directing the horse back to Brandon and signaling that the ride was about to begin.

Kicking his horse into a trot, the king and Grace were at the head of the group. Grace had to hold on tighter to his majesty as well as hold herself still by using her thighs, keeping herself from bouncing on the horse. The group went a little ways, passing by the beautiful scenery of the countryside. The rolling hills, towering trees, and fields of green were covered in fall leaves. Different shades of oranges, reds, browns, and yellows colored the leaves. Soon the trees would have no leaves and snow would cover the ground, but for now the court would enjoy the fall weather.

The air held a chill that day as November began to creep closer to December. The wind was sharp against her face, but she did not complain. Grace was glad she had worn fur lined clothing underneath her basic riding outfit, but she had stupidly forgotten her gloves in her chambers. Her fingers were freezing, and she kept squeezing and relaxing them to keep her fingers from going numb. The king felt movement on his middle and looking down, saw Grace's bare hands shaking from the cold weather. He immediately halted his horse and grasped her hands in his, looking over his shoulder at her in question.

"My lady," the king speaks, "Are you cold?" Grace hesitates for a moment before replying.

"I forgot my gloves in my room. It was a careless mistake." Grace tries to pull her hands from the king's, but he does not budge. She tries again, and the king still will not release her hands. Instead he does something that is quite unexpected. He kisses each hand, first the skin of the front of her hands and then her palms. She could feel his warm breath against her hands as well as the stubble of his beard and it made her shiver, from the cold or from how intimate he was being, she did not know.

The king then let go of Grace's hands, slipping his gloves off his own hands before placing them on hers. He turns to face her again. "I don't think I would be being a true gentlemen if I let your hands freeze Grace." The king holds a look of care in his eyes, his blue orbs staring into her green abysses. Grace can't help but be pulled in for a moment. But, then she blinks, and the spell is broken. She leans away from the king, noticing how she had begun to lean forward as he spoke to her. Her face returns to its normal blank stare, and the king is unable to read her face. He frowns, sitting forward again and kicking his horse into a trot.

It is silent for a minute before Grace wraps her hands much more comfortably around the king and she mutters, "Thank you, your majesty." The king smiles. He was making progress with her, no matter how little it was.

The group continued their ride, passing by the beautiful English countryside for another half an hour. However, the king was oblivious to the reactions of the court as they continued their ride. Grace looks around, seeing the various expressions of the court members. Some send looks of shock, others looks of loathing at having just seen what had transpired between Grace and the king. Grace's face turns to one of worry. She could only imagine what they would be saying about her at court. The more she thought about it, the more she felt troubled. Her face began to turn white and she began to feel faint. Her arms now inched tighter around the king's middle and Charles saw her look of panic.

"Majesty," Charles shouts, urging his horse to the side of the king's. "Perhaps we should turn back. Lady Neville may be feeling unwell. The cold may be getting to her." The king turns in the saddle once again and is surprised to see Grace's usual pink cheeks are now an unhealthy shade of white. He is immediately concerned, turning the horse back to Richmond Palace. He waves the court ahead, wanting some privacy for Grace. Charles remains with them.

"Lady Neville," the king speaks, going back to formalities as Charles was present, "Are you alright? Perhaps a ride was not the best today." The king berates himself for not noticing that Grace was being immensely affected by cold. He was completely unaware that it was her worry that was making her ill and not the weather.

"I'm sure once we have returned that I will feel much better majesty," Grace replies, glad they were now at a walk and not a faster gait. Grace remained silent the rest of the journey back while Charles and Henry discussed Frances' pregnancy, Charles daughter by Mary Tudor. She had just given birth to Charles' second grandchild, though he feared the child was weak as her elder brother had died in infancy. Grace paid no attention, letting the men speak and keeping her mouth shut. It was none of her business anyway, but she felt that Charles trusted her enough to say such things in front of her.

The small group returned to the palace much later than the courtiers had. It was nearly dinner time and Grace felt the usual pang of hunger in her stomach. Halting his horse, the king dismounted first before helping Grace down himself. He would not allow a groom to do so, waving one away when he went to aid Grace. The king easily reached up and lifted Grace from the saddle down to the ground. He set her down directly in front of him, his hands on her waist and her body much too close to him to be considered appropriate. She looked up at him, waiting for him to release her so she could walk to her rooms. The king did release his grip on her waist, but instead of letting her leave, the king grasped her left hand with his left hand while he put his other hand on the middle of her back. Grace went to speak in question but was interrupted by the king.

"My Lady, I think it would be rude of me not to help you to your rooms since you have been feeling ill," the king spoke, waiting for Grace's usual defiant tongue to speak. Grace just nodded her head, thinking it was wise to accept than to refuse. If she said she did not need his help, then he would just insist anyway, and an argument would ensue. The king was taken aback by her simple answer but did not show it.

"Thank you, your majesty," Grace said quietly, waiting for the king to lead her through the palace corridors to her chambers. She bit her tongue to prevent herself from making a comment other than one of thanks. The pair began walking, the king signaling for Charles to follow. As they walked up the stairs into the palace, all eyes were on them. Grace would not look anywhere, but in front of her. Her head was held high and her face was emotionless. She did not want to give the court anymore reasons to gossip about her.

The king noticed the way Grace carried herself immediately, chuckling at her behavior. She was tense, disliking the situation he had put her in. He enjoyed it immensely. Anything to make her angry at him made his blood warm. And now, judging by the way she was acting, she was mad at him for putting her in another awkward situation. She wouldn't even look at him when he said her name.

"Grace?" the king spoke, loud enough for only Grace herself to hear. She did nothing, keeping her face straight ahead as they passed by the courtiers. All bowed to them as they past, many of them muttering "your majesty," and "my lord," as was expected when the king passed. However, neither the king or Grace expected to hear a "Lady Neville," as they walked by briskly. Grace's head shot towards the direction of the voice, but she couldn't tell who exactly had spoken. More people began to call out "Lady Neville," or "My lady," Grace wishing they hadn't done so. She turned to the king for a reaction. But when she turned her face to look at his own, she was surprised to see the king looking at her with a look of admiration. He was not angry that the courtiers were calling out to her. After all, it was merely a sign of respect. And if the king was seen to respect her, the courtiers would also do so or appear to do so. There was also the fact that before Anne was queen, Henry had to make an announcement that all were to bow to her as she passed. It seemed the courtiers had recognized Grace as a companion to king and bowed of their own volition. Grace hoped the courtiers did not think she was the king's mistress, for she was not and never would be.

The king acknowledged the courtiers as him and Grace passed, nodding his head towards them. Grace was too shocked to do anything, licking her lips nervously and eyeing the crowd to make sure none of the members of the Boleyn family were present. Thankfully, they were not for if one had been she was sure to hear from Queen Anne's father about the display in the corridor.

At last, the small group came to stand in front of Grace's family's chambers and not the chambers she shared with the queen's ladies. Grace was sure that would have caused a scene. She turned to the king, waiting for him to release her from his grip so that she could return to her duties as the queen's lady. He hesitated for a moment, looking as if he never wanted to let go of her hand. "Majesty," Grace spoke, bowing to the king before entering her chambers. The king said a simple, "my lady," as he watched her enter her rooms. The door closed, and the king stood there for a moment before nodding his head at Charles. The two began to walk down the hall towards the main corridor, Charles ready to speak to his friend about Grace.

However, after closing the door Grace realized she was still wearing his majesty's gloves. She turned back around and opened the door, calling out to the king. "Majesty," Grace called out, hoping it was loud enough for the king to hear her at the end of the hall. The king halted immediately, turning to face Grace. She stood in the arch of her doorway, fidgeting her hands as she began to take the gloves off. He strode towards her and in three long strides, he was directly in front of her.

"Keep them," Henry spoke, "For I'm sure you need them far more than I do." He took one of Grace's soft hands in his, kissing the front of it and looking into her eyes. He saw Grace's intake of breath and her soft expression as she looked up at him. It was a different look, one he had never seen her give him. It almost looked like one of respect and admiration, but then her angelic face turned back into a frown and her normal self was revealed once again.

"Majesty," Grace spoke, yanking her hand from his and shutting the door in his face. She heard the king give a loud chuckle, Charles also laughing, and the footsteps of both men as they again made their way down the hall. The king was not angered once again but amused by her.

Grace shook her head, berating herself for her actions just then. She would not be like putty in the king's hands. She would not fall under his spell like all those other women had. She was a Neville and as a Neville, she had a duty to her uncle and her family, and that would not be becoming the king's mistress to get what she wanted. No, she would enchant him, outwit him, infuriate him. She knew what would keep his attention and that would not be acting like one of those silly doe-eyed girls that fell into the king's lap. No, she would be the one thing he couldn't have, and she would dangle it in front of his face whatever chance she got.

* * *

 _ **The Tower of London 7 December 1535**_

Cromwell was visiting More in the Tower of London. A guard opened the door for the secretary, saying "Your Honor," and closing the door so the pair could speak in private. More look bedraggled, his hair out of place and mere blanket to shelter him from the cold. He remained at his desk which was covered in books and remained seated in his seat.

"Mr. Cromwell… how may I please you?" More speaks, looking at Cromwell. His voice was respectful, but tired.

Cromwell approached More, a very aloof air about him. He was dressed in fine clothes compared to More's and he flaunted his new status right in front of More. He was now the king's righthand man, not More. That time had passed. "It would please me very much if you could give me the reason or reasons why you will not take the oath." Cromwell was not there for chitchat. His response was right to the point. He wanted an answer and he wanted one now. More's stubbornness was quite annoying since the king was becoming more and more irritated that Cromwell could not gather a reason from the man on why he would not take the oath.

More merely responded, "I have discharged my mind of all such matters and will no more dispute kings' titles, nor popes'." He raised his hands, trying to covey his words and the fact that he was done speaking of his conscience.

Cromwell approaches More. "The king accuses you of stubbornness and obstinacy for not giving your reasons." He sits down in another chair stands in front of the desk. "You must have some view of the statute," he asks.

"I have this view that the Act of Parliament is like a double-edged sword for if a man answer one way it confounds his body and if he answers another, it confounds his soul." More speaks in analogies, staring at the ground as he talks before looking Cromwell dead in the eye.

"But if you do not answer at all, you will incur penalties. His Majesty has commanded me to draw up an act of attainder against you. This will make your imprisonment permanent." Cromwell relays this news to More, neither happy nor upset. He is indifferent to his majesty's order.

More hangs his head. "Poor Alice. My poor Margaret. My poor Grace." His hands cover his face in distress. He could only imagine how Grace was doing at court.

"Sir Thomas. Why will you not take the oath? Thousands have. Many, I'm sure, share your beliefs and your faith. And yet, not your scruples. Your niece certainly does not." More's eyes narrow at Cromwell's words. "Perhaps you have heard the rumors. She is thriving at court, both the king's and the queen's favorite. Though, she continues to deny the king's advances. Why is that so?

"Do not bring my niece into this. You do not know her true opinions nor do I," More grits through his teeth. "As for that," he continues, "some may do it for favor and some for fear. Some may perhaps think they can later repent and be shriven, and that God will forgive them." More's words strike Cromwell's core and for a moment, he is overtaken by the other man's words. "And others may be of a mind that if they say one thing but think another then their oath goes upon what they think and not upon what they say." Cromwell gulps, looing uncomfortable. "But I cannot use such ways in so great a matter." More leans back in his chair, licking his chapped lips.

"In which case and in all honesty, Sir Thomas you are likely to pay the ultimate price," Cromwell conveys with a heavy heart. He does not want More to be executed. Even he feels that it is too great a punishment for a man's conscience.

More's eyes widen for a moment before he utters, "Mr. Cromwell, there really is no difference between us except that I shall die today and you tomorrow." A church bell tolls in the distance, interrupting More for a moment. He speaks again. "At least let me see my precious niece if I am to die, whenever that may be."

Cromwell nods his head. "I will ask the king if he will accept your request and judging by your niece's favor, he will allow her to do so." Cromwell rises from his chair, sending More a sympathetic look before exiting the cell. More turns back to his books, pouring his thoughts over scripture, but not before he says a prayer to God, a prayer for strength not only for himself, but for his dear Grace.

* * *

 _ **Hampton Court 19 December 1534**_

Christmastide was upon the English court; the king having moved to Hampton Court for the festivities of the season. Grace and her father were present for the event, but her brothers had returned home for the month to spend time with their families. John's banishment had been lifted and he had returned to court briefly before being reunited with Mary. It was not just the king and the Boleyns that had been surprised at their marriage, but also the Nevilles as well for John had never told them he was courting Mary. After all, she was the queen's sister and six years older than him. But, he loved her and that was all that had mattered to the Duke. She had even told Mr. Cromwell that "I had rather beg my bread with him than to be the greatest queen in Christendom. And I believe verily he would not forsake me to be a king." She would not forsake John, nor would he forsake her.

The whole court was in the great hall that day, readying themselves for the celebrations that would occur Christmas Day until 12th night. Grace was with her cousin Margaret who had come to court to petition on her father's behave. Grace knew her efforts would be in vain as her father and brothers, even herself, would ask the king to speak to More and release him due to his service as Chancellor. But, the king would not budge. Grace learned to bring up the topic merely if the king was off guard or if the topic had not been brought up for a while. She knew not to test his temper. She would make a comment here or there, watching as the king's smile would turn into a thin line and his eyes would stare into hers with a fierceness. He would say nothing, wither staying silent or continue speaking as if Grace had not mentioned anything about More at all. Most of the time, this occurred if the king, Charles, or her family members were the only ones present. She wouldn't dare say such things if the queen or a Boleyn were present. Nor would she say such things without an escort near, trying to stay as much as possible with other people. She wouldn't let him get her alone. She would not let him have that satisfaction. She would lead him until he thought she had her, only to be back right where she wanted him to be.

The queen noticed her changed behavior but said nothing. Grace was more nonchalant than anything if the king came to visit the queen, not ignoring his presence but not acknowledging it either. The king still acted the same, pleasant and loving to Anne, but his never drifted far from Grace. And she was thankful Grace did not accept his looks nor his pursuit. She defied him, much like Anne did herself in the days of her youth. But, Grace was different from her. Anne hadn't quite figured out what it was yet.

Standing with her cousin, Grace was not wearing her uniform as Lady-in-waiting to her majesty. Instead the queen had allowed her to wear the more traditional dress that all ladies of the court wore during Christmas. The dress was a gold color, a great contrast to the bright red many women were wearing. However, the underskirt was red, having a bit of Christmas cheer. It fell slightly off her shoulders and curved right above her breasts so barely any cleavage showed. She wore no necklace, only ruby earrings and a string of rubies in her hair. Meanwhile, Margaret was wearing a gold drees with green accents and she wore a green French hood with gold pieces and pearls sewn into the material. Her red hair contrasted greatly with her cousins' darker features, but their green eyes were the same. Eustace Chapuys noticed the two, approaching them as they passed by.

"Forgive me, but aren't you Margaret More, Sir Thomas' daughter? And Grace Neville, the Duke of Warwick's daughter?" Chapuys spoke, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Yes, sir," Margaret spoke. Grace gazed at him warily, her eyes darting to the queen, but she was occupied with dancing with Mark Smeaton, the Tudor music and dance master. Anne's ladies blocked her view of the small group as they danced around her.

Chapuys bows to both. "I am Eustace Chapuys, the emperor's ambassador. It is a great pleasure for me to meet anyone associated with Thomas More. And it is a pleasure to see you at court again Lady Neville."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Margaret said respectfully while Grace nodded her head.

"May I ask why you have come to court?" Grace knows the question is directed at Margaret as Chapuys speaks.

"I have come to petition Mr. Secretary Cromwell." Margaret looks towards the man she speaks of. "Lately most of our lands have been sold off and my family is gradually reduced to poverty. My uncle has provided for us, but my mother will only let him do so much. Things go very hard with my mother, but my uncle tells her to have hope." Grace squeezes Margaret's hand affectionately. Chapuys' face is one of pity and he genuinely feels for the Mores.

"I am sorry to hear it. I am sorry for many things that are occurring in this kingdom. The good seem to suffer, and the wicked to prosper." Chapuys glares at the queen, both women following his gaze. Grace cringes, before excusing herself from the conversation. She catches the king looking at her from the corner of her green orbs. He is on the dance floor with one of the many court ladies, but he pays no attention to her. His gaze is steady on Grace and she knows it. But she uses it to her advantage, walking around the perimeter of the dance floor and testing to see if his gaze remains on her. She looks up and his eyes connect with hers for a moment before she slowly brings her face to look forward. Thankfully, she had just missed colliding with Henry Howard, Anne's recently betrothed cousin.

"Lady Neville," Henry speaks, bowing to Grace while she curtsies in return.

"My lord," she responds. "I hope you are enjoying your time at court this Christmastide."

"Unfortunately, my betrothed is quite sour, and she does not wish to dance with me." Henry points towards a pretty blonde girl who has a frown plastered on her face. Grace recognizes her as Frances de Vere, the daughter of Earl John de Vere of Oxford. It was a good match, but she couldn't help but laugh at the poor girl's expression. Henry chuckles as well.

Henry leans forward to whisper in her ear. "She doesn't like me very much, refuses to spend any time with me. Would you mind dancing with me, my lady?"

"Of course not, my lord. I would be honored." Grace takes Henry's outstretched hand and he leads her onto the floor. The small band of musicians strike up a simple Pavan dance and the two follow the steps of the dance. Their fingertips lightly brush, the dance calling for no physical contact whatsoever. Grace enjoys the dance with the Earl of Surrey, both him and she experienced dancers, but she did not like how he grabbed her waist and pulled her to him at the end of the dance.

"My lord," Grace spoke, offended by his abrupt behavior. "I shall ask you to release me." Henry does not budge, but chuckles at her. "Come now, you were enjoying the dance." He leans forward once again, sending a shiver of disgust down her spine as he whispers to her. "How about you and I leave the hall and find some corridor to chat in, hmm?" He smiles at her suggestively and Grace holds back the urge to puke in her mouth. She tries to move away from him, but he has an iron grip on her waist as he begins to force her towards the entrance of the hall. She tries to signal to the courtiers of her distress, but there is no need to.

As Grace was practically being dragged across the floor, the king saw her predicament and was quite enraged. He walked straight into the path of the young Howard, giving him such a look of anger that the boy, not man, loosened his grip immediately and bowed to the king. The king said nothing, instead holding his hand out to Grace who took it gratefully. The king escorted her from the young Howard's presence, taking her away from the noise and the business of court to the quieter domain of his court room. The guards opened the doors as Henry headed towards the room, curious looks on their faces as they took in Grace's fear-ridden expression and the king's angered one. The doors to the throne room shut quietly behind the pair, both unaware that two dark eyes had watched them. The rest of the court was oblivious, including Anne who continued dancing with Mark Smeaton.

The king released his gentle hold on Grace's hand and Grace wasn't sure whether to look away or keep her face looking at him because of the enraged countenance he held. "You have no idea what that Howard was thinking, do you?" Henry spoke through gritted teeth. His anger was not directed at Grace, but it still frightened her nonetheless.

"I have an idea your majesty," Grace mumbled under her breath. "I do have brothers. They tell me some things."

"Some things, not all things Grace," the king retorted. He approached her, raising his hands and holding her cheeks in his palms. He tenderly caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. Grace had stepped back when she had seen him approach her and now she was so close to him, beyond the boundaries of propriety now. Her back hit the next to the doors of the throne room and she nervously bit her lip. "You have no idea," he continued, his blues eyes conveying the seriousness of his words. "He would have forced himself on you, taken your purity, that special innocence that you possess." He pressed his forehead against hers, making her tense. "And I would have punished him for it since a lady is supposed to give herself to you willingly and not my force. I would have you for myself, but only willingly Grace." Grace gulped at the king's lust filled expression. Her hands remained at her sides, her fingers gripping the material of her dress tightly. She had no idea what to do. She didn't know whether to bolt or to let him continue his spiel. But, before she could act, the king's lips were against hers.

Henry couldn't help himself. Grace had looked so innocent in that moment, so perfect, and he had to possess her, even if just for a second. Ever since she had walked into his court in April, he had wanted her, pined after her, desired her, lusted for her, needed her. And now he had her, even if it was a small part of her.

Grace did not push the king away like Henry had thought she would do, what she thought she would do herself. Instead, she let him kiss her and though she hadn't willingly let him, she didn't deny him either. The king was not urgent in his pursuit, but gentle as he moved his lips against hers, and surprisingly, Grace did the same. The king's hands moved, one behind her neck while the other wrapped fully around her waist, pulling her closer to him while also pressing her against the wall. Her hands were placed on his chest, not pushing him away. She was right where he wanted her, and she was letting him kiss her.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?" the king whispered when he unlatched his lips from Grace's. Grace gasped for breath when his lips left hers, her breathing unsteady as she looked up at him with a longing expression. She had wanted him to kiss her, though she wouldn't admit it. "Say you'll be mine," Henry continues, "and you shall have anything you want?"

"I cannot give you my maidenhead, majesty. That is for my husband alone." The king groans in rebuttal, the look of want on his face. Grace leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. The king closes his eyes, waiting for more, but she pulls away. "Will you release my uncle from the tower? Or will you at least speak to him?" she muttered. The king's eyes burst open and his jaw tensed. He was not angered but did not know how to respond.

The king thought for a moment before he goes to speak, but he is interrupted when he hears a voice at the door. The sound of the door opening reaches his ears and he turns to Grace who escapes from his hold and hides herself in one of the dark corners of the room. Only the king knows where she is because he saw her. The doors open and Lord Boleyn answers, looking to the king in question.

"Majesty," Boleyn says respectfully, "Are you alright?"

"Quite so," the king responds. "I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts. Shall we?" He motions towards the door of the throne room. Boleyn casts a suspicious glance around the room, but nods at the king and the pair exit towards the hall. The king sends one last glance toward Grace's direction before disappearing with Boleyn.

Grace holds lets out the breath she was holding, sliding her back down the wall as she goes to sit on the floor. She was confused, wondering why she had indulged the king so. It wasn't unpleasant, but surprising sweet and she touched her fingers to her lips. However, she scolded herself. This was no time to be fantasizing, but at least she had gotten the idea of visiting her uncle in the king's head. Perhaps kissing the king was all that had been needed to persuade him after all.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to all! Sorry for such a long wait. Welcome to all my new favs/followers: bookfreak25, purplejays10, mrs. Morgan 35, GruffyWuffy, larissinh2, KittenBonBon, the real chosen 1, Croonsgirl, and armyrachel.**

* * *

 **Ch. 10**

 _ **Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. ~William Shakespeare**_

* * *

 _ **Hampton Court, 28**_ _ **th**_ _ **December 1534**_

Grace had been asked to come to the king's office, the room directly next to his throne room and personal chambers. She had a hunch why, for she hadn't talked to him for a more than a week, not since their encounter in the throne room. Christmas had come and gone, all the courtiers having presented gifts to the king and queen a few days ago. Grace had remained by the queen's side, ever the loyal lady. Elizabeth had been brought to court, her parents showing her off to the courtiers. She would return to Hatfield after New Year's. Meanwhile, Mary had remained at Hatfield to the dismay of Grace. She hated that her friend had been alone for Christmas, giving her another reason to be mad at the king.

The page that came to Grace's family's chambers was now escorting her through the halls of the castle, Grace making sure her face was hidden behind her French hood and veil. Thankfully, she was not wearing her ladies uniform nor anything too fancy. The dress was simple, a red paisley pattern with gold embroidered on the neckline and a gold brooch on her chest. The sleeves were trumpet sleeves with brown fur lining and the undercoat was also a light brown color. She blended in perfectly with the other courtiers, but the Tudor rose emblem on the page's uniform would make her stick out like a sore thumb.

Thankfully, Grace made it through the corridors undetected and when she walked into the main hall before the throne room, very few courtiers were present and mainly ambassadors were in the hall waiting for an audience with the king. Ambassador Chapuys was among them and seeing Grace, he bowed to her while Grace sent him a cordial nod. She continued behind the page, Chapuys watching her curiously as she disappeared into the throne room and then into the king's office.

When Grace entered, the king was sitting as the long table placed in the middle of the room. The fire was raging in the fireplace behind him and Grace wondered how the king could stand being so close to the heat. Papers were scattered across the table, the king glancing through them meticulously. Cromwell stood next to him, also looking at the papers. Grace could only imagine what was on those papers and she became nervous, thinking that her uncle's death warrant could be on one of those papers. But, hearing the news around court, the documents probably dealt with the king's reformation of the Church and his dealings with the clergy.

The page announced Grace's presence, both the king and Cromwell looking up from their work. Cromwell kept a stoic face, his eyes flittering over Grace for a moment before his eyes returned back down to the papers. The king, however, had a beaming smile on his face as he took in Grace's whole person. He had been exhausted by the work of the day and seeing Grace was a sight for sore eyes.

"Lady Neville," Henry spoke, releasing the many pieces of parchment from his hands and laying them down on the table. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in his lap.

"Majesty," Grace muttered, lowering her eyes and curtsying in respect. She returned to her standing position, keeping her eyes on the ground and waiting for the king to speak. The king rose from his chair, pushing the furniture back and began to walk around the table with hands behind his back.

"I've considered your request," the king said, Grace's eyes darting up at his words. He knew exactly what he was talking about and she awaited his words eagerly. The king continued to pace around the table, coming closer and closer to Grace. "Considering the time of year we are at, perhaps it would do your uncle some good to have some visitors. Everyone should have the chance to be with their family, even if they are accused of treasonous behavior." Grace frowned at that. Her uncle was doing no such thing. More merely refused to take the oath, keeping his opinions to himself. "I shall have Mr. Cromwell escort you to the tower sometime in the next few weeks so you may visit with your uncle.

"Thank you, your majesty," Grace replied. "My uncle will be very thankful that you have granted such a visit and he will be told of your majesty's kindness." She was disgusted that such pleasantries had just been muttered from her lips, yet she was relieved that the king had granted her request. But she still waited for more. That could not be all he wanted. She could tell by the way he had just halted directly in front of her. He was quiet for a moment, gazing at her face for any type of emotion. But, she gave him none, choosing to raise her eyebrows at him sassily. He chuckled, reaching forward to grasp her chin with his hand. Grace gasped at his action but did not move.

"Mr. Cromwell, could you please leave Lady Neville and I for a moment?" the king questioned. Cromwell had been paying no attention to their conversation whatsoever and when he turned from his papers to the king, he was taken aback at what he saw. The king had taken Grace's chin in his hand while she frowned up at him with contempt. And yet, all he saw in the king's eyes was adoration. He didn't like it one bit. The king's attention had diverted from the running of the kingdom to the Neville girl and he scowled in response.

"Of course, majesty," Cromwell spoke, no mention or show of his dislike evident. Instead, Cromwell left all documents on the desk and left the room, sending one last look at the pair while he waited in the throne room for the king to finish whatever it was that he was discussing or doing with the Neville girl.

Henry's attention was on Cromwell's departure, his eyes glued to the back of his secretary before looking back into Grace's green orbs. "You've been avoiding me," he stated, rubbing his thumb along the bottom of Grace's chin. Her jaw tightened as he did so.

"No, I've been performing my duties as lady-in-waiting to the queen, majesty," Grace uttered in her stubborn manner.

"And yet, when I come to her chambers you're nowhere in sight," the king retorted, making a light blush appear on Grace's cheeks. He chuckled at her behavior. "It's quite obvious you've been avoiding me my dear Grace." He leaned forward, and Grace panicked inside until she realized the king was pressing a kiss to her forehead. He released his grip on her chin and she stepped back immediately. "I have something for you," he continued, turning around and grabbing a folded cloth material off the table that Grace had not spotted.

"Majesty," Grace said in a shocked tone, "I do not deserve anything from you nor would I accept anything you would give me." She didn't understand why the king was giving her a gift. She knew he knew that she was angry with him for her uncle's imprisonment. She despised him more than anything and she made that clear to him.

"You deserve more than you think," the king replied, opening the cloth, but not revealing what was encased within. "Turn around," he spoke, Grace giving him a wary look before listening to his order. Grace felt the cold material of pearls against her as the king placed a necklace around her neck and when she looked down, she was stunned beyond belief. Yes, the necklace was of pearls, but what concerned Grace the most was the pendant attached to the end of it: a Tudor rose. The king had given her a gift with his emblem on it.

"Majesty, I can't accept this," Grace said nervously as she faced the king. Her hand automatically went to the pendant and she grasped it in her hand as she gave the king a pleading look.

"Henry…You shall call me Henry when we are alone," Henry said, placing both his hands on Grace's arms and gently pulling her towards him. Grace tried evade his grasp, but she failed, not because he pulled her against her will, but because she did not have the willpower. "You can and you will accept my gift. It is my most sincere wish that you do so," Henry further spoke, kissing her forehead again.

"Majesty," Grace said, but he king interrupted her.

"Henry…"

"Majesty…"

The king smiled at her defiance, holding her chin in his hand again. "You are so stubborn, but it is your stubbornness that I admire." The king was silent for a moment and Grace tried to read him, but could not. "Will you let me kiss you?" he questioned. Grace did not say a word, but bit her lip anxiously. Her eyes flickered from the king's eyes, to the floor, and back again. But that was all the permission he needed. The king leaned forward and kissed her lips firmly, one hand remaining on her arm while the other went to the back of her neck. And unlike last time, Grace's hands held on to the back of Henry's neck. He smiled into their kiss, knowing that this time she had wanted him to kiss her, even if she later denied it. He was less gentle than before, more passionate than he was last time. His lips began to move against hers and Grace followed suit. It was not her first kiss but then again, the only two people she had kissed had been the son of one of her father's friends when she was thirteen and someone her father had tried to betroth her to when she was eighteen. Neither time had been as pleasant as this.

Henry was in disbelief that Grace was kissing him back. She had been so defiant before and now, she was kissing him back. As his lips moved against hers, she also did so, though less experienced than he. He could tell by the way she innocently pushed her lips against his and then slightly pulled away for a second before returning to him. He gently moved his hands to rest on the middle of her back, holding her in his embrace. Grace shivered for a moment before leaning back into his arms, her hands against his chest. Of all things, she felt safe there, at home. She tried to erase the thought from her head, but could not. It was already implanted there. And with the king's lip still moving passionately against hers, the thought would not disappear.

Henry was the one to pull away, gazing at Grace's face with adoration. Her eyes were shut, her lips slightly parted as if she was waiting for more. Her eyes opened when the king once again lifted her chin so her face was directed up at him. Her breathing was uneven, her body was shaking, and her stomach was performing somersaults. Meanwhile, the king was cool and collected, but his intense stare gave away his true emotions. When Grace looked into his eyes, she knew he wanted her. And when he pressed his forehead against hers, she knew he was feeling the same emotions she was.

"Promise me," the king said, referring back to his request that Grace call him Henry in private. A knock was heard on the door, followed by a "majesty" and it startled both of them. Grace gave out a small giggle. It sounded like chiming bells to the king's ears, making him grin. She stepped back from him, Henry releasing her from his hold. He felt empty with her absence from his arms.

"Majesty," Grace spoke, curtsying before turning to the door and leaving the king in his study. The interruption had given her an opportunity to leave. When she turned to look at the king one last time, his sharp blue eyes were still on her and a radiant smile appeared on his face. That smile was for her and only her. She let out another laugh, retuning the gesture, and left the king to his own devices.

However, Grace realized that the king's gift was on her neck, and though she knew she should have taken it off, she didn't. She would wear the gift with pride, even if for that one moment. She wouldn't dare wear the necklace in front of Anne nor in front of the court . But she would keep the treasure in her jewelry box, ready to be worn if the need occurred. Passing through the throne room and into the great hall, the cool material of the necklace now felt like it was burning her skin as all eyes were upon her. She held her head up high and commanded respect as she walked through the now crowded great hall. She all knew what they were thinking. She was wearing the emblem of the king and only someone favored and respected by the king would be given such a gift.

As Grace passed Ambassador Chapuys, he bowed to her, muttering a simple "Lady Neville." But he was not the only one. Several other courtiers and ambassadors followed suit, but not all of them. Some looked on in jealousy, others in curiosity, but mostly in astonishment. Grace was not the wife of the king and as she wore the Tudor Rose on her neck, many began to wonder what exactly she meant to the king. Mistress, confidant, favorite. It didn't matter. The game of court was in play and Grace was on display for all to see.

* * *

 _ **2 January 1535**_

Anne sat in her apartments with her ladies, all of them admiring the Princess Elizabeth as she tried to walk across the floor to her mother. Elizabeth giggled as she stepped into her mother's arms, Anne placing a kiss on daughter's forehead as she turned to walk back towards the ladies. She had been walking for a couple weeks now, but was still unsteady. She babbled as she walked directly to Grace and Grace lifted her up into her arms, laughing at the spectacle.

Anne's father then walked in, halting when he saw Grace with his granddaughter in her arms. He scowled at her when they made eye contact, but Grace ignored him. Boleyn was nothing, but a controlling father to her. She wondered how Mary and Anne would let themselves be bullied by their own father to do whatever he could to earn favor with the king.

Boleyn headed towards his daughter immediately, Anne rising from her position on the floor. He escorted her into her bedchambers, shutting the curtains behind them to give them some privacy. Grace raised an eye at the display, but said nothing, turning her attention back to the princess.

"I told you to be cautious of that girl," Boleyn scolded, his eyes glaring fiercely in the direction of Grace.

"Why?" Anne questioned, wondering why her father appeared so angry. "I see no harm in letting her be my lady. She is quite dutiful and sets an example for the others." She began to pace around the confines of her bedchamber, staring at the fire as she listened to her father rant on again. Grace was a loyal lady and performed her tasks efficiently. Whatever Anne asked of her, she did so.

Boleyn looked at his daughter in disbelief. "You haven't heard the rumors? The news?"

Anne's head jolted upward at that. "What rumors?" she said in a sharp tone, her father's words catching her attention.

"How could you be so deaf? So blind?" Boleyn whisper yelled at his daughter. "It has been mentioned that the king gave to Lady Neville a gift, one that contained his emblem. And I have no doubt she was the woman the king was talking to in his throne room the other night. Do you realize what this means for us? Do you know how dangerous it is for us now?" Boleyn spoke harshly.

Anne's blood began to boil. She felt angry in that moment, furious that Grace would betray her like that. But, then again she only knew what her father had told her. She also felt like crying for the king's affections had yet again turned to another woman. Was she doing something wrong? Did he no longer love her? They had shared beds a few times over the past few months, but recently, the king seemed distance and spent more and more time in his own chambers pouring over government matters. He had no time for a mistress, or so Anne thought.

"Anne, look at me," Boleyn said as he grabbed her roughly at the shoulders. "You need to do something? Set an example. Dismiss her. Banish her from court. Something to deter the king's attention from her."

Anne yanked her body away from her father, speaking through gritted teeth. "If the king's attention is already on her it would displease him to hear I had sent her away." Anne began wracking her brain for something, anything. She did not dislike Grace, she enjoyed her company, but now, she seemed to be a threat. She couldn't exactly remove her from her circle of ladies. Sending her away for a while was the only solution she could think of.

"I'll send her to Hatfield and say that I want her to stay with Elizabeth for a while," Anne utters, biting her lip.

"And let her be with the Lady Mary?"

"What else do you suggest? If she goes back to Warwick Castle the king will surely know I sent her there. Besides, she'll be focusing on Elizabeth. The Lady Mary has been ill as of late. Perhaps she won't be a problem anymore."

"Very well," Boleyn responds. "Do it immediately. We don't need any more problems." Boleyn then stalked out of the room, startling the ladies-in-waiting when he opened the curtains and hastened out of the room towards the king's chambers for a privy council meeting.

Anne frowned at her father's departure, his advice echoing in her head. Her eyes drifted to Grace who was playing with Elizabeth. She had a way with children and Anne was sure she would be a wonderful mother. But, right now Anne was concerned with other matters. "Lady Grace," she said. Grace tuned to her majesty with a questioning look on her face. "I would like to speak with you?" Grace handed Elizabeth to Lady Bryan before she made her way to the queen. She stood in front of her, waiting to see what the queen wanted.

Anne started pacing in front of Grace, her mouth in a thin line. "Lady Neville." Grace's brow furrowed at Anne's use of her last name. "I have heard that the king has shown you great favor. Care to enlighten me?"

Grace stood her ground. She did not seem phased at all by the queen's question. She had watched Boleyn when he entered and the look he gave her was hint enough. She raised her eyebrows at Anne. "Majesty, I did not think it necessary to appease rumors of court."

"Rumors? You and I both know it is not a rumor. Did the king give you a gift or not, Lady Neville?" Anne spoke aggressively.

"Yes, he did. And as soon as I received it I tried to refuse it, but he would not let me." Grace's answer was simple and completely truthful. She did not see the point of lying. It would do her no good.

"I see," Anne said. She was still suspicious. "Well, I have a task for you. I wish for you to escort Elizabeth back to Hatfield and you are to remain there until I call you back to court. Am I clear?"

"Yes, majesty," Grace replied. She turned to Anne, waiting to see if she would say something else. Anne waved her off, absorbed by her thoughts. However, Grace said one last thing. "I would not betray your majesty's trust. And I would not lie. Lying is a sin and as your lady-in-waiting I am to abide to your rules of propriety." Anne was pleased Grace had said something, for her wariness was not as intense as before. She nodded at Grace and pointed her head towards Elizabeth. Grace returned to the princess' side, listening to Anne's orders. Anne would still be cautious and keep her eye on Grace. With her away from court, her paranoia would abate and perhaps the king would come back to her. But, Anne was still not sure. She knew her position was at stake and looking at Grace now, she understood why.

* * *

 _ **Tower of London 11 January 1535**_

Grace pulled her cloak closer around her as she walked through the freezing halls of the Tower of London. The king had came through with his promise and she was visiting her uncle before she headed to Hatfield. Her father had assigned some of his men to travel with her while he remained at court. The king also did so, one of his guards escorting her personally to the tower. A gust of wind blew through the halls, Grace shivering violently from the chill. She wondered how her uncle was able to live in such a place for so long. It was cold, damp, and quite frankly, the whispers of inhabitants that had gone crazy from living in captivity for so long frightened her.

The guard of the tower led Grace to her uncle's cell, opening the barred door and politely holding it open for her. "My lady," he spoke, gesturing inside. Grace walked over the threshold, her heart dropping when she saw the condition her uncle was in. He sat huddled next to a poor excuse for a fireplace, a ripped blanket covering his shoulders. His shoes were practically in shreds and his clothing was not far off. Grace couldn't understand why the king had let this happen to her uncle and she suddenly was overcome with rage. Everything she had felt all those days before completely disappeared at the sight of her uncle.

When More turned to look at his niece, his face lit up with joy. He tried to stand on his feet, but Grace beat him to it. She fell into her uncle's arms while he remained sitting in front of the fireplace, sobbing as he stroked her hair in a fatherly manner. "My dear Grace," he spoke. He could not believe she was here. His wife and daughter were rarely allowed to see him and so he never thought Grace would have permission to visit. He pulled away from their embrace, holding her face in his hands. "Don't cry," he said as he brushed away her tears, though his eyes were watering at her arrival.

"What has happened to you, uncle?" Grace questioned. "Why are you kept in such conditions? Why would the king do this to you after you were so loyal to him?"

More's face turned to that of distress. "I'm afraid it is Cromwell, not the king, who has submitted me to such conditions. He thinks keeping me locked up like an animal without any basic necessities will break my spirit. He is quite wrong. I shall not speak on the matter as my conscience dictates."

Grace took her uncle's hands in hers. "You would sacrifice your pride, your dignity, just to get a point across to Mr. Cromwell?" she questioned.

More nodded, giving his niece a small smile. "I know you don't understand my dear, but when your faith is as strongly rooted as it is in me, you will understand."

"Well then, perhaps I will have to wait until I am as old as you," Grace retorted, making her uncle laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he had done so. All he did know was that he would cherish this moment for as long as he could, for as long as Grace was allowed to stay. And he prayed that the king would see reason. Grace's visit was evidence enough. The king had been influenced by his niece and if Grace remained in his vicinity, More would know if his niece was a distraction or if she meant much more to the king of England.

* * *

 _ **Hatfield 18 March 1535**_

Grace had been staying at Hatfield for the past two months, the queen satisfied that she was nowhere near the king. Grace did not complain for she had been with the Lady Mary and Princess Elizabeth. She enjoyed both girls' company, but being with her closest friend brought joy to her heart.

When she arrived at Hatfield, Grace had noticed Mary's deterioration in health. Mary had always had a weak immunity, but over the past winter, questions had been raised on whether she would fully recover from her constant fevers and coughs. Grace had nursed her friend back to health, none of the other ladies caring about the health of the king's eldest daughter. Mary was grateful for her friend, knowing that the last time they had talked Mary herself had caused an argument. It had been a few months since they had seen each other and now they had been constantly in each other's presence for the last two months.

Mary knew of her father's affinity for Grace and the two had discussed the matter in great detail. Grace revealed everything to Mary, hesitantly at first, but Mary was not angry, but impressed with her friend. Of course, when Grace told her about how she shared a kiss with the king, Mary was concerned. She raised her eyebrows at the revelation, Grace blushing under her friend's scrutiny. She calmed her friend's fears, assuring her she would never be her father's mistress. She continued on, saying how the queen had sent her away to prevent just that and Grace was not bothered at all by it. As long as she could convince the king to release her uncle, she would be satisfied.

The queen either did not care or was too busy to realize the consequences of her actions, the king getting quite antsy over the fact that Grace was not at court. Two weeks after her departure, he began to send her letters and shockingly, Grace had returned them. Though the king revealed his affections to her, Grace was careful to be respectful and reserved in her responses back. The king would always sign his letters simply Henry, no title, no flourish in his words, and Grace would simply sign her name as well, though she would say _Your loyal and obedient servant, Grace Neville._ She was much more formal than the king and she did not give into his advances quite the way he wanted her to. If he asked her to be his mistress, she always replied no, but not a simple no. She would always elaborate and every time the king saw her words, he would chuckle at her defiance. Grace would write:

 _Majesty, as much as it would delight me to please you, I cannot give myself to you as your mistress. I understand the position would come with much favor and respect from your lordship, but how would giving my maidenhead to you please you? You were pleased by many ladies before me and I am sure if you would have me as your mistress, you would be pleased by several ladies after me. Your majesty must be reminded that you are married to Queen Anne and if pleasing you meant displeasing her, she would think unhighly of me and I would agree with her. And I believe no wife likes to share her husband with another woman. I would not like to cause any rift between you or the queen. I would instead very much like to remain in yours and the queen's service as a lady to her majesty and the Princess Elizabeth._

Nothing Grace said would steer the king away. He had already latched onto her and he would not let go. He cared for her too much already and he was damned if he would give up so soon. He had pursued Anne for almost eight years, but this was different. He didn't know how, but he just knew.

And now, unbeknownst to Grace, the king, Charles, and a small retinue were upon Hatfield, having traveled from the Tower of London to see the Princess Elizabeth. However, the king had an alternative purpose, to see Grace. He raced across the English hills on his steed, many of the men struggling to keep up with him. Charles knew why and internally laughed at his friend's behavior. Grace had enchanted him and he was under her spell.

The king reached the courtyard of Hatfield, quickly dismounting his horse and entering the residence. Charles was close behind. He weaved in and out if the halls until he reached the main parlor. The king had sent no mention of his arrival and many servants were surprised at his arrival, especially Lady Bryan. They all bowed when he entered, but the king paid them no attention. "Lady Bryan," he spoke, "Please excuse my unexpected arrival, but I thought I would come and visit my daughter."

"Of course majesty," Lady Bryan responded. She was a little flustered at the king's surprise, but made no show of it. "The princess is sleeping right now, but perhaps in an hour or so she will be awake. I could wake her if you like. She would be excited to see your majesty."

"Let her sleep," the king spoke, "Where is Lady Grace?" he questioned, looking for the object of his desire.

Lady Bryan's eyes widened at the king's question and her eyes drifted upstairs. "The Lady Neville is in her rooms right now. Would you like me to go and fetch her for you, majesty?"

"No need," the king spoke, "I think I can manage." Lady Bryan's eyes flowed him as he made his way further into Hatfield. He had an idea of where all the rooms in the house were and Grace's room was most likely situated next to the balcony, the same one where he had first seen her with Mary. He ascended the stairs hastily, practically bouncing off the walls as he searched for his angel. He came to her rooms quickly, slowing his hastened pace as he came to her opened door.

Henry peered into Grace's room, content with the sight in front of him. Grace was practicing her needlework, though he knew she was horrible at it. He saw her prick her finger as she drew the thread in and out of the cloth, gasping in pain and sticking the digit in her mouth. Henry chuckled at the display, the noise attracting Grace's attention. She rose to her feet immediately at the sight of the king, her needlework materials falling to the floor. "Majesty," she muttered, placing herself in a curtsy.

The king entered her room, a beaming smile on his face. "Grace," he spoke, walking towards her and placing his hands under her elbows as he raised her from her curtsy. "I told you to call me Henry sweetheart," he said in a gentle tone. His hand when to her chin, a habit of his whenever he was around her. Her green eyes now directly looked into his blue ones and they darted from the corner of the room back to Henry. But, he did not notice.

"Majesty," Grace retorted, "I believe that is too informal and I have no right to speak in such a way to you."

"If I remember correctly, I'm the one who gave you permission to do so," Henry responded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He then pressed a kiss on either cheek before placing one on her lips lovingly. When he pulled away, her eyes were wide and she was biting her lip nervously. Henry thought it was adorable, pressing her forehead against his and holding her face in his hands.

"Majesty, I….We…" Grace could not speak at that moment and the king looked at her with a quizzical expression. "Majesty," she continued, "We are not alone." She lowered her eyes to the ground. The king turned, wondering who could have seen him just kiss her and he lowered his hands from Grace as if she had burned him. Mary was standing on the other side of the room, having entered from a side door that led to her own chambers. Grace had requested that Mary be next to her because of her health and the Lady Bryan had agreed hesitantly.

Mary looked between her father and Grace, not knowing what to do. Remembering herself, she lowered herself into a curtsy, waiting for the king's response. He said nothing, but stared at her. He had not seen his pearl for several months now and it felt like he was seeing a ghost. He was not embarrassed that he had kissed Grace, but he did feel awkward at being in the same room as his daughter.

"Mary," Henry said, stepping away from Grace and striding towards his daughter. Grace watched the scene cautiously, wondering what the king was going to do. He stopped in front of Mary, holding his hand out for her to take.

"Majesty," Mary replied, taking the king's hand and rising from her curtsy. Her hands returned to her sides swiftly. She was anxious, her body shaking at being so close to her father. Henry and Grace both noticed, Grace fiddling with her fingers nervously as she waited for Henry to react.

"Mary," the king repeated, betraying how on edge he truly was at the appearance of his daughter. Seeing her now made him feel guilty about how he had treated her. He had removed her from the succession, declared her a bastard, and reduced her to serving her infant sister like a common servant. Then again, Anne had convinced him to so when she was pregnant and he had done anything to please her. He reached out, placing his hand on her cheek and stroking the soft skin. "My pearl," he spoke, his eyes watering as he took in the woman his daughter had become.

"Father," Mary replied, breaking down and rushing into her father's arms. Henry held his daughter, her body shaking as she cried into his shoulder. The two grasped each other tightly, Mary never wanting to let go. Henry felt as if a gap in his chest had been made full again, full at the fact that his daughter still loved him after all he had done to her. Grace gasped, her hands covering her mouth as she cried and tears falling down her face as she saw father and daughter embrace. She was elated at what she saw. Mary had finally been reconciled with her father and she owed it to Grace. She connected eyes with her friend, mouthing a "thank you," as she buried her face back into her father's shoulder.

After a few moments, Henry pulled away, smiling lovingly at his daughter. "Can you forgive me?" he questioned. Mary merely nodded her head. She did not blame her father, but Anne Boleyn.

Henry turned back to Grace who was still crying happy tears at the reunion between father and daughter. Grace knew the king was changing, his cold heart was melting, and she couldn't help but feel as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Henry grinned at her expression, knowing that he had made the right decision in coming to Hatfield that day. Looking at her now, he knew she had entered his life for a reason and now, he was falling in love with her. He was in love with her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her stubbornness, her intelligence, her eloquence, her love for his children. Change was on the horizon, all of them knew it. Grace and Mary just hoped that Thomas More would be spared from the king's wrath. If the king could reconcile with Mary, couldn't he reconcile with More?

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to all my new favs/followers: Greek Medusa of my own kingdom, lovers of history and pain, Alicethemaddess, AlanaSG711, Doujin-Maker, Leafpool16985, and steelegirl19.**

* * *

 **Ch. 11**

" _ **Love is begun by time, and time qualifies the spark and fire of it."**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare, Hamlet Act 4, Scene 7**_

* * *

 _ **Warwick Castle 30 March 1535**_

Grace had been allowed to return home to see her family before she was required back at court. Anne had given her permission, not knowing that the king would be with her as she did so. The king had stayed at Hatfield for several days before returning back to court and now, he was traveling with Grace, Mary, and a small retinue to Warwick Castle. Of course, there had been another reason for her return home. It was Grace's 21st birthday and Warwick had decided that was cause enough for celebration. The whole family would be together once again and they hadn't been so since Grace's arrival at court.

Riding on her horse up the gravel that led to her home, Grace sent a glance behind her at Mary and Henry who rode side by side. Mary couldn't look happier, and the king looked content with himself and that him and his daughter had reconciled. He noticed Grace looking, ending the conversation he was having with his daughter and spurring his horse to her side. "What is it sweetheart? You aren't unhappy on your birthday, are you?" he questioned, reaching for her hand and raising it to his lips. Grace blushed, thankful that Mary, Charles, and a few others were the only ones present. They would not utter a word of this to anyone, but she wasn't sure if the guards around them would say anything. She knew Anne would be suspicious of the king's many departures, but he had done so for quite a while now. He would disappear for days at a time, Anne not knowing where the king was. Grace felt for the queen, but then again, she knew the king was hunting and visiting his subjects, not visiting brothels and the like as Anne suspected.

Grace squeezed his hand affectionately before returning it to the reins on her horse's bridle. "It's nothing," she spoke. "Mary has missed you greatly. We often talked about it while I was her lady. You realize how much joy you have given her. She thought she had lost her father's love."

"Mary could never lose my love. She has been neglected by me, though, as I have spared her no attention. I promise it will no longer be that way." The king halted for a moment, his eyes darkening. "I preoccupied myself with things that others convinced me to be of more importance. It was wrong of me."

"You are king, majesty. Many things are required of you. It is easy to become sidetracked from those who mean most to you." Henry had never heard such words from a woman's mouth. She spoke so freely with him, as if he were a regular man. He gave Grace a look, but she couldn't read it. She raised her eyebrows at him in question.

"Is something wrong, majesty?" Grace asked.

"Other than the fact that you not saying my name, no, nothing is wrong," the king teased Grace, reminding her of his permission to call her Henry. Grace merely rolled her eyes and spurred her horse into a gallop, the king letting out a hearty laugh behind her.

They were soon upon Warwick Castle, Warwick himself, all his sons, their wives, and their children all waiting outside for Grace. The main servants also stood outside such as the lady of the household, pages, and several grooms. None of them knew the king would also be there, the king having also surprised Grace when he appeared right before they were to depart from Hatfield. She was upset at leaving Elizabeth for she was a darling child, but she would be back to see her soon.

As soon as Warwick spotted the king, his eyes began darting back and forth between his daughter and the king. He then saw Mary and even more thoughts appeared in his head. His sons' eyes all widened as well, especially Arthur who smirked at his sister. Grace ignored her younger brother, choosing to focus on her father for the moment. Anne's sister, Mary, was also present, Grace's brother John beside her as she rocked their newborn baby in her arms. She was quite puzzled, though she said nothing. It seemed her sister's grip on the king was slipping, just as she warned her it would if she continued as she was.

The king dismounted from his horse first, helping Mary off her horse before turning to Grace and helping her as well. He held out his hand for Grace to take, which she took hesitantly as they approached her family.

"Majesty," Warwick spoke, him as well as all others bowing to the king. "We were not expecting you. What a pleasant surprise."

"Warwick," the king spoke, embracing the man in a brotherly manner. "It is good to see you and your family again. I hope my visit does not upset your plans."

"Of course not, majesty. Your visit would only make them better," Warwick replied. "Gracie," he spoke turning to his daughter. Grace stepped into his embrace, Warwick pressing a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "We shall discuss this later," he whispered into her ear. "Majesty," he said, gesturing towards the castle. Henry took Mary's hand, walking behind Warwick and Grace as they walked inside the castle. All eyes followed the king curiously, wondering as to what had developed between him and Grace.

The celebrations for the evening were in full swing. Warwick had spared no expense for his daughter, the hall decorated in all gold decorations and filled with Grace's favorite dishes. The king was enjoying himself very much. Not being surrounded by courtiers or patronized by his wife was relaxing. All of Grace's nieces and nephews were running around, playing games and entertaining the little ones. Henry wanted that more than anything, to be surrounded by his children. But, it seemed Anne was incapable of accepting his daughter while she herself was incapable of producing any children after Elizabeth. It bothered him to no end. He was slightly jealous of Warwick who seemed to have what Henry desired most.

Grace was watching the king as he held a blank stare on his face. He looked deep in thought and she knew exactly what was going on in his head. Family was very much important to the king, though many thought otherwise. He had reconciled with Mary, the next step being that Anne would accept her and that she would be brought to court were his whole family could live together. But that was impossible. If Mary was brought to court, Elizabeth's position as heir would be threatened and Anne would not allow that to happen. Grace pitied the queen, for in her ambition, she was hurting Mary more than anyone.

Mary seemed to be having a delightful time at Warwick Castle. Though hesitant at first, she had warmed up to Mary Boleyn almost immediately. She was nothing like Anne, though she had been her father's mistress. But now, Mary appeared to have turned her life around. She married Grace's brother without the permission of her father and she lived a happy life with her new child. Her other children, Henry and Catherine, were also present. Their parentage was often questioned, both having similar characteristics of the king, but he had not acknowledged them since Mary had still had sexual relations with her husband at the time she was the king's mistress.

Grace wore a simple dress made out of gold metallic cloqué fabric and matched with a gold brooch. Her hair was loose, falling down her back in its natural curl form. She did not like fancy or flashy clothing, choosing to remain modest and sophisticated in her wardrobe, though she did have some dresses that were more revealing. Grace was now standing with her younger brother, Arthur, who was almost 15 years old. He was becoming quite the man, with looks and intelligence to match. He would be brought to court soon, she had no doubt of it, and he would thrive there. As Grace expected, Arthur had teased her about the king, though not as brutally as her nephews. She had instantly shut them up with a sassy comment, and they scurried off to cause trouble somewhere else.

Grace had not avoided the king since they arrived, but merely kept her distance. She didn't want her family coming to the wrong conclusions, though she was sure they had already formed a variety of hypotheses in their heads. Her father certainly had. He hadn't taken his eyes off the pair since they had arrived and Grace tried to ignore it. She knew she would have to talk to him sooner or later, but that did not mean that day. It was her birthday after all.

Suddenly, the hired musicians for the evening struck up a tune and Grace was pulled into the middle of the room by her brother, Christian. No set steps were followed, the siblings instead dancing in their own way. He twirled her around the room, before passing her off to Richard. Richard passed her to John, John to Arthur, and finally, after dancing with all of her brothers, she ended up in the arms of the king. He too spun her across the dancefloor, their eyes barely faltering from each other. The king lifted her into the air, Grace letting out a laugh as he did so. Everyone else did so as well, whether they were dancing or just observing. It seemed they had their own private court for the evening and Grace, not the king, was at the center of it all.

* * *

 _ **Greenwich Palace 5 April 1535**_

Anne sat in the confines of her chambers, drowning herself in wine as her ladies said. The king had been gone for a few days now, Cromwell left in charge. Anne had no clue where he had gone and had heard no word from him. As she took another sip from her chalice, she dipped her finger in the red liquid and rubbed it over her lips. She watched herself in the mirror, her disheveled appearance staring back at her.

Anne had called for George, her brother, who now entered his sister's chambers worriedly. Anne's ladies left the siblings to themselves, shutting the door to Anne's chambers behind her. "Sister?" he spoke out, questioning why she had called for him at such an hour. It was practically midnight. He stood in the opening of her bedroom, staring at his sister in disbelief.

Anne turned to George, before looking back. She had not realized he was standing there as she was absorbed in her own thoughts. "I couldn't sleep. I'm sorry." She approached her brother, staring into nothingness rather than had her brother.

"Why could you not sleep?" George asked, grasping his sister's shoulders lightly.

"I was thinking of her," Anne replied, still staring off into space.

"Who? Thinking of who?" George spoke softly, trying to comfort his sister.

Anne's eyes were sharp as she looked up at her brother. "The Lady Mary, of course," she replied, her tone tuning nasty as she said, "And her mother." She took another large gulp from her wine chalice.

"Catherine?" George questioned in a whispered tone.

"Yes, Catherine." Anne gave her brother an incredulous look. "What's wrong with you?" She hit her brother against his chest.

"I don't understand. What harm can they do you now?" George tried to understand his sister's behavior, but she was acting irrational. It was scaring.

"Every harm!" Anne exclaimed. She started pacing around her room, George watching her every move. "As long as Mary is alive, she could be queen."

"No." George grabs his sister and turns her back towards him. "No, no. The Act of Succession makes it impossible." Anne shakes her head, doubting his words. "Elizabeth, your daughter will be made heir to the throne." George places his hands on his sister's cheeks as she shakes her head again.

"But the king can change his mind. He can do whatever he wills now. He has absolute power." Anne becomes frantic as she speaks, and hits George against his chest again. "You know that." She breaks away from her brother's arms. "And what he has given, he can take away." She does a gesture with her arm, emphasizing the motion. "And what taken away, he can give back." Anne is practically shouting at this point. "And he could still make Mary queen, even above my daughter." She starts to cry, rubbing her hands against her face in frustration.

"But why should he?" George asks. He lets out a long sigh.

"I don't know, I just fear it." Anne is crying hysterically, but suddenly she collects herself and stops her panicked talking. "This is all I know of Mary." She holds her hand up as she makes her final statement. "That she is my death and I am hers."

* * *

 _ **The Tower of London 21 April 1535**_

Margaret More had been allowed to visit her father one more time before his impending trail. Her red hair matched her orange cloak perfectly while her father's hair had practically greyed overnight and his clothes were still in tatters. She was healthy while he was poor in condition. She sat in front of her father, the two of them clasping hands. "Father, what has happened here? It seems to me that they are treating you worse than before."

More was hesitant as he spoke. "Well, they've taken my stove…some clothing. My food is reduced."

"Father, how can you?" Margaret's tone was a mixture of anger and worry.

"Margaret. You must not be concerned about me." Margaret looked downcast at her father's words. "I've thought long and hard about Christ's passion and pain. And I'm not afraid of death." More was passionate in his words while Margaret began to tear up. "I'm only afraid of torture." Margaret turned pale at her father's words. "If they use violent ways to make me swear I…I don't know how brave I would be." More actually looked afraid. For the first time in her life, Margaret saw how scared her father truly was.

"But you do not have to suffer anything. Just take the oath, like I did. Like everyone has done. Just say it and your body will be saved." Margaret pleads with her father, placing her warm hand on his cheek.

"But the saving of my body will be at the expense of my soul," More replies, not convinced by his daughter's words.

"No," Margaret exclaims.

More retorts with a simple, "Yes."

"No. None of us believes that." More's eyes widen as he considers the consequences of his actions. He stares at the ground. "Father, please. Please. For the love I know you bear us…don't do this to us." Margaret starts crying and More, seeing his daughter in such agony, also begins to cry. He begins to realize the toll his death would have on his family, but then again, he also realized how it would affect the whole of Christendom.

* * *

 _ **Greenwich Palace 2 May 1535**_

Grace was more than relieved that she did not have to wear her ladies uniform that day. The May Day Festival had arrived and Grace was allowed to wear a dress of her choosing. Anne had chosen a few ladies to stay with her that day at the festival, but Grace was not one of them. Anne was more wary of Grace, but still kept her as her lady. She feared it would anger the king for she knew he favored her now more than ever.

Anne saw the way he would watch Grace and how she would barely look at him when she was in his presence. It was probably to spare Anne's feelings, but she knew what was happening. Anne was not blind nor oblivious that the king's affections were on Grace. However, she thought it odd that Grace continued to serve her as her lady and did not show contempt for her as she herself had done to Catherine. Grace was kind to her in every way and attended to her every need with a smile on her face. She did not falter from her duties and whenever the king visited Anne, she made sure she was not present or was as far from the king as possible.

As far as Anne was concerned, no one at court had seen the king visit Grace's chambers or Grace his. Grace did not meet him in his study nor was she ever near the throne-room unless Anne was. And the king certainly showed no affection to Grace in public, only his wondering eyes betraying him.

An incident had occurred about a week ago, Anne catching the king watching Grace as she served them food for their midday meal. The king would dine with Anne sometimes, but Grace just so happened to be there to serve both the king and queen. Anne was going on again about Elizabeth's impending betrothal, hopefully to a French or Scottish noble as Spain and the Italian States were loyal to Catherine's nephew, Charles V.

Anne remembered the situation as if it were yesterday, asking permission to broach the topic. The king let her, not realizing that she was going on about the same thing she had been for weeks. He stared past her, his eyes watching Grace as she and the other ladies attended to things around the queen's chamber. She moved so gracefully and quietly, barely making a sound as she moved around the room and performed her duties. Anne had no clue he was watching her until she asked a question, which he failed to answer. She asked again, snapping the king out of his trance.

The king raised his eyebrows in question, and the queen repeated her question. "Will you come to my bed tonight?" she asked, reaching for his hand across the table. Grace ignored the queen's words, acting like all the other ladies who continued with their work.

"No," the king spoke, not bothered by Anne's outraged expression. He seemed nonchalant in his answer, not caring that he had just refused her request in front of his ladies. He pulled his hand off the table, instead resting it on the arm of his chair. That was when Grace faltered for a moment, almost dropping the pitcher of wine she held on a silver plate in her hands. The king saw the clumsy moment, his eyes now focused on her again as she regained her balance. Grace kept her eyes downcast, approaching the table and placing the plate along with the pitcher on the table. She bowed to them both and when she looked up, she noticed that the king and queen's eyes were locked in some type of battle. Anne merely smiled and decided to let it go, aware that all eyes and ears were on them now.

That was a few weeks ago and now everyone at court knew the king and queen were having marital problems. The king had not visited the queen's bed for some time now, though he hadn't sought out anyone else's bed either.

The festival was in full swing, many courtiers dancing at the maypole, dancing on a platform, or talking amongst themselves. The queen and her ladies stood with the king who was discussing some matters of diplomacy with Cromwell. Fisher was soon to be executed. He, like More, disagreed with the king's oath of supremacy, but he spoke out about the oath instead of keeping his opinions to himself.

Elizabeth had been brought to court, but Mary remained at Hatfield for her safety. Henry did not want to bring his daughter to court yet; it was much too soon. However, when the time was right, he would set up her own household if she liked.

Elizabeth was being watched by Lady Bryan at the moment, other children also being watched by the governess as the king had urged his courtiers to bring their children to court for the festivities. Other nannies as well as wet nurses were also present. Warwick's eldest grandchildren were present, the babies remaining at Warwick with their mothers. Thomas and John were present as well as their cousins Christina and Elizabeth, all of them playing with Elizabeth. Some of the Boleyn and Howard children were also present, though they kept to themselves.

And when Elizabeth saw Grace, she was quite excited, running towards her and asking to be picked up. Grace complied to the Princess' request, bouncing her in her arms and playing with all the children. The king and queen both saw her, Anne frowning when she saw Grace playing with her daughter. However, the king thought it was adorable. None of Elizabeth's caretakers, other than Lady Bryan, seemed to have form a bond with Elizabeth. It was comforting to know that Grace had relationships with both of his children and loved them equally. She did not try to advance either of their statuses not did she ever broach the subject with the king. She knew the time would come when Mary would be restored to the succession, but until Anne gave the king a son, the topic would not be brought up. She thought it best to keep pushing for the release of her uncle and nothing else.

Excusing himself, the king made his way towards Elizabeth, though the queen knew his prerogative. Her eyes followed, glaring at the back of the king and Grace. She watched as the king reached for Elizabeth, Grace passing the princess into his arms. She curtsied to the king and he held out his hand for her to take to help her up. He held her hand for too long and when he pressed Grace's hand to his lips, Anne was livid. To other courtiers, it looked harmless, but to Anne and her family, it looked as if they needed to eliminate Grace Neville.

Anne was quite furious for the rest of the day, acting aloof towards Henry and making her frustration known. When the king came to her chamber's later that day, she started an argument, accusing Henry of taking Grace as his mistress. The king denied all accusations and he was telling the truth. Grace was not his mistress, but he was falling for her and he was courting her in some ways. However, when Anne yelled, "I want that whore removed from my ladies and I want her nowhere near Elizabeth!" the king lost his temper.

"I would hold your tongue if I were you madam for she is far from that." The king approached the queen, backing her up against the wall and he slammed his hand against the wall next to her head. "You want the truth, Anne? You want be to be honest with you? I asked Grace to be my mistress and do you know what she said? She said no for she values your opinion far more than mine at the moment. She is your lady and she's made that quite clear to me." He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The noise made Anne jump and she walked into her bedchamber, sitting on the bed. She was taken aback. Grace had refused the king's offer because of her. She had misjudged Grace and now, she had caused a rift between her and the king. She began to cry, placing her hands on her face in despair. Her ladies walked in after the king had left, but they left the queen to herself as she cried in despair. Anne had never felt so alone and it was her fault and no one elses.

* * *

It was late, extremely late to have been awoken by her brother. Christian came into Grace's chamber, saying a page had knocked on the door just as he himself had come in from the festivities. Grace rubbed the sleep from her eyes groggily, slipping a robe around her shoulders so she wouldn't just be in her nightgown. The two siblings walked out into the parlor which connected all of her family's bedrooms. The page stood there, waiting for Grace. Upon seeing her, he spoke, "His majesty has asked for your presence in his study." Grace raised an eyebrow, turning to look at her brother. Christian was just as surprised as her and he wasn't sure what to think about this.

"It's your decision Gracie," Christian said, not knowing if the king was asking to speak with her or if he had other intentions. "But, if you do go, I'd rather escort you there to make sure no one sees you." Grace bit her lip, hoping her brother would have made the decision for her. But he didn't. He stood there, waiting with the page for an answer. She looked at him with wide eyes, but he just crossed his arms.

"Alright," Grace spoke and she nodded at the page. She pulled her robe closer around her as she followed the page into the hallway, Christian walking ahead to make sure no one was in the halls. And no one was. It was almost midnight and the festivities were over. Only guards stood in the hallways, not noticing when the three walked by.

They soon reached the king's study, the page opening the door before shutting it behind Grace. Her eyes connected with her brother's for a moment before the door completely shut. Christian's eyes gave her warning look, urged her to proceed with the upmost caution. And Grace would. As she turned to look around the king's study, she realized she was the only one there. The fireplace was ablaze and several candles were lit, but the king was nowhere in sight.

It was then that a curtain was opened that separated the king's chamber from his study. The king entered, his formal wear gone. He was simply dressed in a white shirt and black breeches. Yet, his face was exhausted and angry. Grace did not know from what. And when he saw she was there, he approached her immediately, taking her into his embrace. Grace just let him wrap his arms around her, unaware why he was acting so affectionate. He pulled away, holding her face in his hands gently. "Anne asked if you were my mistress today and I told her no." Grace's eyes widened in worry for now the queen would surely take out her anger on her. "You are much more than that sweetheart," the king continued, making Grace blush. "She should not have said such things."

"What things?" Grace questioned.

"Nothing to concern you. Anne was making accusations that are false."

"False accusations can be partially true, majesty." Grace looked up at the king, biting her lip nervously.

"Grace," Henry spoke, giving her an admonishing look. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Her words are untrue and you know that. Come sit with me," he spoke, sitting down in one of the many chairs in the room and pulling Grace onto his lap. She tensed up for a moment before relaxing in his arms, Henry moving a stray hair off her face. He held her in his arms as they talked about several different matters. They talked about Mary. They talked about Elizabeth. They talked about Anne. They even talked about her uncle.

And when the two were quiet again, staring into each other's eyes, Henry placed his hand on the back of Grace's neck, pressing his lips against hers. Meanwhile, Grace's hands were pressed against the king's chest. Henry was desperate in his kiss, pressing his mouth passionately against Grace's. Their lips moved together, and when Henry bit Grace's lower lip lightly, she gasped, giving him the opportunity to ravage her mouth with his tongue. Grace was completely clueless, not knowing what to do. She tried to copy his movements, knowing her inexperience would show. The king chuckled at her efforts, pulling away and stroking her hair lightly as he smiled at her. He placed her hands on his waist, lifting her up, and trying to situate her more comfortably across his lap. The action made Grace give out a little squeal as she tried to balance herself by using his shoulders and when she wound up on the king's lap again, she was straddling him.

The king pulled Grace forward gently, leaning in and kissing her again. His hands were everywhere, in her hair, on her shoulders, and on her waist. They even drifted across her breasts for a moment and when he felt her robe still on, he pushed it off her shoulders and pulled her closer against him. His hands were again on her waist and he massaged her skin through her nightgown. He groaned as she begin to move against him, his member hardening instantly. Grace felt it, though she said nothing. Her sisters-in-laws had all discussed what would happen if you excited a man and now she was experiencing it. They moved against each other in sync, Grace letting out little moans of pleasure while the king also did so. He grabbed her under her legs, lifting her into the air as he stood up. Grace wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her into his bedchamber, their lips never leaving each other's. He leaned down, laying her on the feather soft bed as he held himself above her. He pulled away for a moment before reaching for his shirt and lifting it over his head.

Grace leaned back on her elbows, studying the curves of Henry's chest and his stomach. Her eyes glazed over and she bit her lip again. Henry leaned down, looming over her for a moment. His eyes reflected the same lust he held in his. Grace was breathing heavily, nervously awaiting the king's next move. He pressed his forehead against hers, rubbing his nose against hers, before pressing his lips against hers, hard. His hands went directly to her waist, the king situating himself between her legs as they began to rub themselves against each other again. Grace's hands went to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Henry hiked Grace's leg up around his waist, holding it there while his other hand went to the back of her neck. They were equally frantic in their movements and as the king neared his peak, he buried his face in the crook of Grace's neck. He pressed his hips harder into Grace, making her hips buck in turn and eliciting a moan from her mouth.

That sound was all Henry needed and he finished instantly. He stilled over her, Grace realizing what had just occurred. She blushed, but did not move. As the king breathed into her neck, she ran her fingers through his hair, also trying to control her breathing. Henry lifted his head from her neck, staring down at her with lust, but also with love, though Grace did not know it. He lifted himself off of her and pushed himself off the bed, sending her a brilliant smile.

"Turn around and close your eyes," Henry spoke to Grace. She obeyed his command, turning herself around and shutting her eyes. She heard the shuffle of clothing and the clatter of boots as they hit floor and the king soon returned to her, his lower half still clothed. Grace faced him, Henry wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sleep sweetheart," he said. "I think we're both tired." She smiled up at him, kissing him lightly before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. Henry soon followed, wondering how he was so blessed. His angel was in his arms and for the first time in a while, he slept through the entire night.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to my new favs/followers: Kohanita, TheTinyVampire, joygoddess, FireFly2912, gjoyce95, and rdawg16.**

 **Ch. 12**

" _ **Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare**_

* * *

 _ **Greenwich Palace 3 May 1535**_

When the king woke up, sunlight was streaming through his window. He could hear the moving and bustling of court, realizing that he had awoken after his usual time. He opened his eyes slowly, the room coming into focus around him. He tried to move, but a weight was on his arm. Looking down, he saw Grace still asleep next to him. She looked beautiful as she slept, her hair messy from sleep and her legs tangled in the sheets. He stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to his temple before rising from the bed.

Henry dressed himself, choosing not to call a page to come and help him. Grace was still asleep after all and he did not want anyone to know that she was in his personal chambers. He chose a simple red jacket which he slipped on over a white shirt while brown breeches and boots were put on next. He also slipped his gold chain over his head, laid with rubies and pearls. Checking himself over in a mirror and making sure Grace was still asleep, Henry walked through his chambers and into his study. Thankfully, Cromwell was not there, probably because the he had not called him yet.

Looking at a clock on the wall, Henry realized it was 11 o'clock, very late for a king to be rising, but he did not care. All he cared about was preserving Grace's reputation. He approached the door to his throne room, calling a page inside. The man followed his orders, coming into the room and waiting for the king to speak. "I need you to go and fetch Christian Neville for me and be quick about it. Do you understand?" The page nodded, turning on his heel and heading for the Warwick chambers. As soon as he knocked on the door, Christian opened the door, shutting it behind him and nodding at the page. He held a parcel in his hands, trying his best to hide it from the court. He knew exactly what to do, making sure his other family members had no clue of his sister's latest interactions with the king. That was her business anyways.

The two hurried through the halls of palace, coming to the king's chambers quickly. The page announced Christian's arrival, shutting the door so the two men could talk. "Majesty," Christian spoke, bowing respectfully to the king. Henry sat in one of the many chairs in his quarters, a stoic look on his face as he stared at Christian.

"Lord Neville," the king replied. "I'm sure you know why you're here."

"To fetch my sister I assume." Christian's answer was simple and to the point as he eyed the king. He had spotted her robe immediately, lying carelessly on the floor. "As a brother, I'm sure you understand that if you were not the king, I would have my dagger through you already."

Henry nodded at Christian's words as he took the protective stance of an older brother. "I assure you Lord Neville, nothing transpired between your sister and I that would warrant the harming of my body. Your sister means much more to me than you think and I would like to keep her reputation as pure as it has been since she arrived at court." Henry was not angered, but understanding of his words. Christian placed the wrapped parcel he held in his hands on the table, crossing his arms over his body. He was suspicious, but said nothing.

The sound of the curtain moving made both men's eyes dart towards the king's bed chamber. Grace entered the king's study, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had been confused when she woke up, wondering where the king was. She thought she had heard voices, but she wasn't sure. This had urged her to enter the king's study. She froze when she saw both the king and her brother in the room, an embarrassed look on her face. She couldn't believe that she had been put in a situation like this.

Henry rose from his chair, immediately approaching Grace and pulling her to him. His hand went directly to her chin and he pressed a kiss on her forehead before placing one on her lips. Grace responded to his affections, moving her lips against his, but she was still uncomfortable that her brother was watching. Henry pulled away, rubbing Grace's chin ever so lightly with his thumb. "Did you sleep well, sweetheart?" he questioned. Grace merely nodded her head, her eyes turning to her brother who had an awestruck look on his face. "I asked your brother to come here as he understands our predicament. I'm sure he can fetch some clothes for you to change into."

"Already done," Christian said, reaching for the package he had brought with him and handing it to his sister. Grace blushed, taking the clothing from his brother and retreating into the king's bedchamber to change. She closed the curtain separating the two rooms behind her for privacy. The two men stood silently as Grace changed, neither looking the other in the eye for a few moments. "Majesty," Christian spoke, "May I ask a question?"

Henry nodded, giving Grace's older brother permission to speak his mind. Christian smirked as he thought of the question he wanted to ask and Henry wasn't sure if he had made the right decision. He could barely hear Christian's words as he spoke in a whisper, making sure Grace did not hear. "You love my sister, don't you?" Henry tensed up, his lips forming a thin line. He went to answer, but before he could, Grace emerged from his chambers in a light and flowy cream gown. It was plain, no accents or embroidery except for pearls on the square neckline. The underskirt was gold, which matched her gold cross necklace that Christian had placed with her clothing. She was unaware of her brother's question, even as Christian placed his pointer finger on his lip in a jesting manner to the king.

"I think it would be wise if your brother escorted you back to your chambers," Henry muttered, placing his hand on Grace's back and rubbing her skin through the material. Grace looked to the king and nodded, worried that her absence would be noted by her family. "I shall see you later, madam," the king continued, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it lightly. "Lord Neville," he also spoke. Christian bowed to the king before heading towards the door, Henry taking his chance to kiss Grace quickly without her brother watching. Grace wished it could be longer, but alas, she needed to leave or else rumors would start. She hurried after her brother, forgetting her night clothes in the process. It did not matter, for the king placed them in a hidden chest in his room after she left, keeping the clothes as a reminder when he truly realized he was in love with Grace Neville. The king's heart went with her, aching as she left his sight.

Christian said nothing to his sister as they walked back to their chambers. Grace kept her eyes to the ground, nervous about what her brother would say to her. Before they entered their family chambers, he turned to her, saying, "Neither of us will speak of this to anyone. I think father does not need to reproach you for anything. Is your honor still intact?"

"Of course it is," Grace retorted. "The king knows I will not give my maidenhead to him nor did he ask me for it." Christian's eyebrows raised slightly and he smirked at his sister as he did the king.

"Do you love him?" Christian asked. Grace was surprised at such a serious question, but she had no answer. She could not give him a simple yes or no, for she did not know.

"I respect him," Grace replied, pushing past her brother and entering their chambers. But it didn't matter for Christian had his answer, regardless if his sister answered or not.

* * *

 _ **The Tower of London 15 May 1535**_

Court had returned to the city of London, Grace aimlessly trying to appeal to the king about her uncle whenever she could. He would neither budge in his opinion nor mention what he thought would happen to his old friend and colleague. They would talk, for hours it seemed, about her uncle, but not about his imprisonment nor his impending fate. The king would avoid it, changing the topic to something else occurring at court. Grace noticed that he asked her opinion on several things that women supposedly were not to give an opinion on. He asked her about Elizabeth's betrothal, his reformation of the church, and his relations with Spain.

And Grace would give him her opinion. She told him that perhaps a French alliance was too far-fetched for the moment and that perhaps the king should show interest in another European nation, whether it be the Italian States or German principalities for the moment. She relayed to him that his reformation of the church broke him from the corruption of the Catholic Church, but that Catholicism was still the faith of Jesus Christ. She disagreed with his reformation of the monasteries as it did not just target those with bad reports, but those of good ones as well. As for her opinion on relations with Spain, she reassured him that peace would come. It was the pride of kings that often prevented alliances and as Henry had spurned Charles of the Holy Roman Empire's aunt, it seemed natural he would dismiss an alliance with England. When all anger was cast aside, Grace suggested that the king form an alliance with Charles with marriage negotiations, that was if Elizabeth was not yet betrothed or if Anne had delivered another child, a son, by then.

Grace was careful not to outreach her limit, but Henry did not seem to mind. He valued her words much more than she knew. It seemed as if she had a better understanding of politics than many of his nobles did, perhaps better than those who were members of Parliament. She did not try to sway him to agree with her opinion, but urged the king to carry out his own decisions regardless of if the majority approved his actions or not.

However, at the current moment, Grace was in the queen's chambers. Lady Madge was reading from the bible and Lady Anne played the harpsicord. The queen sat in the middle of her ladies, sewing a gown for Elizabeth. All other ladies did the same, making various other pieces of clothing whether they were for Elizabeth or for the poor. Anne watched Grace out of the corner of her eye. She had gotten better at her sewing, but still lacked the patience to deal with a needle. She sat by herself, away from the other ladies and on the outer edge of the circle around Anne. She kept to herself mostly, not really talking to any of the ladies-in-waiting unless talked to, choosing to remain silent and dutiful.

Anne rose from her seat, motioning for the ladies to remain sewing in their spots. She made her way over towards Grace who had not noticed her movement until the queen stood right in front of her. "Majesty," she spoke in a startled manner going to rise from her seat, but Anne waved her hand, signaling for to remain seated. She took a seat beside Grace.

"I owe you an apology, Lady Grace," Anne spoke, surprising Grace.

Grace set her sewing aside and spoke to the queen. "I see no need for an apology majesty." And Grace believed that. Anne was acting as any wife would.

Anne smiled. "I think I do for I treated you poorly for things you cannot control. So, you and I can be friends then?" she questioned, taking Grace's hand in hers in a friendly manner.

"I thought we already were," Grace replied. "And to be clear with your majesty, I did not seek out the king on my own account. I would never do that."

"I know," Anne responded. "The king simply cannot stay away from such beauty."

"Only because it is similar to yours." Anne nodded.

"That may be so Lady Grace, but you are also unlike me in so many ways." And with that, Anne returned to her previous position, pulling Grace behind her and making one of her other ladies move who had been directly sitting beside her. She had been restored to the queen's favor, by what unknown source she did not know. All she did know was that Anne would keep her by her side no matter what, even if she was the king's favorite.

* * *

 _ **20 May 1535**_

It was the middle of the night and Henry stood pacing in his chambers. In front of him, his golden cross stood on a table, the gold glaring back at him in the moonlight. "Why?" he spoke, holding out his arms. "Why can he not be like others? Why does he have to cross me? Why can his vanity be greater than a king's?" His voice rises as he continues to speak to the cross or rather, to God himself. "It troubles me. It weighs on my conscience and my heart is full and heavy and sore. It weighs even more on my conscience because of her, because she urges me to choose, because she urges me to consider the consequences of any actions I take for or against him." Henry rubs his temples in frustration. "I say this only to you, I confess only to you, I love him. And I hate him. I hate in equal measure to my love, for he is the spirit that denies." He points to the cross and speaks passionately, his head pounding from his concentration in prayer. His jaw tightens and his muscles tense. "It is up to you to judge whether or not he be on my conscience."

* * *

 _ **1 June 1535**_

Thomas More sat in his cell, a broken man as he read through his books and papers. They were his only companions through the long and lonely days in the tower. Suddenly, More heard the door to his cell open, a guard entering. More rose to feet, spotting one of the members of court following behind him. "Sir Richard," he spoke, drawing the blanket around his shoulders closer. "Good day to you. I see my cell is fast becoming the place for lawyers to meet." Sir Richard Rich removed his hat from his head, a downcast look on his face.

"I am afraid, Thomas, that I come here most unwillingly, for I am ordered to deprive you of all your books and papers and suchlike." Rich looks around the cell, concerned at the poor conditions. More truly lived a deprived life.

"That is a pity," More says, sparing Rich a small smile. "Still, if you are ordered to, I suppose…I suppose there is no other way." More starts grabbing his things and piling them up for Rich to take. His face displays a countenance of discomfort. Rich shakes his head in agreement. "Well, you'd best get started."

Pages began to enter the room, taking book by book, paper by paper from the room. More stares out the window of his cell, upset at his loss of luck. It seemed Mr. Cromwell was trying to make him despair even more. A bell tolled in the distance as the last item was taken from the room. He was interrupted in his thoughts by Rich. "May I ask you a question, Thomas?"

"Only if it's a hypothetical one, Richard. It's better that way," More replies.

"Suppose, then, that Parliament enacted a bill to say that I, Richard Rich, was king and that it would be treason to deny it. Would you accept me as king?" Rich asks.

"Yes," More answers. However, he asks Rich his own question. "But let me counter with another hypothetical case. Suppose Parliament enacted that God was not God and that to oppose the act would be treason. Would you say that God was not God?"

Rich shook his head. "No. Since no Parliament can make any such law. It has no competence to decide on the existence of God," he replies.

"And no more can Parliament make the king Supreme Head of the Church." With that statement, More does not realize that Rich has words to use against him now. Cromwell's mission had been completed and More had no clue.

"There, Thomas. I think my work here is done." And with that Rich left the cell and left More once again by himself in his cold, empty cell, left only with his thoughts.

* * *

 _ **15 June 1535  
**_ The king and Grace were walking in one of the various gardens within the Tower of London, Grace holding on to his majesty's arm. He had invited her to go on a stroll with him in the garden, it being a beautiful June day. Grace was not in the company of Anne today, the queen choosing to spend time with Elizabeth at Hatfield for the next few days. Grace stayed behind at court, the queen not trusting anyone but her to keep the king entertained. Plus, if any lady placed herself in the king's way, Grace would tell Anne of it.

"Won't Mr. Cromwell be upset that I've deterred you from your work?" Grace questioned the king in a teasing matter.

"Leave Mr. Cromwell to me," Henry replied, lifting Grace's hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss on the soft skin. "Besides, I'm the King of England. I can do anything I want." Henry held a cheeky look on his face as he spoke, making Grace roll her eyes.

"You are much too arrogant if you say that, majesty," Grace responded.

"Henry…" the king retorted, pulling Grace into his arms.

Grace giggled at his comment, shaking her head no in response. The king grinned down at her, his hands on her waist as he kissed her gently. He pulled away, noticing Grace's serious expression. "What is it?" he questioned. Grace bit her lip, not meeting his eye.

"If the King of England can do anything, then why do you keep my uncle imprisoned? Why do you torture yourself in this way?" Grace asked. The king released Grace from his embrace. "Majesty, why do you continue to treat him in this way?"

"Why do you continue to ask about something I cannot give you an answer to?" Grace halted in her speech, aghast at his reply. She was fuming at his words.

"You have arranged a trial for a man who served you and his father his entire life. You are charging a cardinal of the Church with treason. And you are sentencing my uncle to the same fate just because he will not take the oath that you are the Supreme Head of the Church. Tell me majesty, is it better to be feared or better to be loved? Hmmm?" Grace was referring to Bishop Fisher whose trial would be on the seventeenth while her uncle's trial would be later. Both men were victims of the reformation of the church. Henry sighed in frustration, rubbing his hand against his face.

"Perhaps Fisher and More need to realize that unless they accept and live under my regime, they will not live at all. I will not have people defy my rule." Henry knew he was being harsh, but unless his people were obedient, his reformation would not be successful.

"They are not defying your rule. They are simply saying you are not above God. No one is above God. Not even the king." Grace spoke through gritted teeth, her hands clenched at her sides. Those words struck Henry right to the core. He could not look at Grace, not when she was glaring at him so defiantly. "Do you believe you're above God, majesty?"

"I suggest that you watch what you say, madam." The king practically yelled at Grace. The king's face had turned red, his jaw tightening in anger. Grace was the same, her usually happy face overcome with indignation. This was the first time they had ever argued. They had disagreed before, but never had they had a full-fledged fight. Both were in each other's faces, neither backing down from their positions. Grace did not speak nor did the king, both breathing heavily and waiting for the other to say something first.

Grace let out a sigh of exasperation, crossing her arms across her chest. "Did I speak out of turn?" Grace said saucily, raising her eyebrows at the king. She was baiting him and he knew it. He was angry with her at that moment, but he also desired her more than ever. She knew that now, watching his body language and the way his eyes traveled up and down her body. "Something you like?" Grace questioned.

"Do not test me, Grace," the king replied, striding away from her in an agitated, but bothered manner. He slid his hands through his hair, his eyes intently studying Grace's form before looking across the gardens.

Grace approached him, determined to get something out of him. "If you will not speak of your thoughts, promise me that I am allowed to be at my uncle's trial. Promise me that I will be there when you sentence my uncle to whatever punishment he will receive." The king was taken aback by her request. No woman was ever allowed to be present at a trial at Westminster. After all, it was men who handled judicial matters, not women. But the way she looked at him with hope in her eyes sparked something within him. He could not refuse her. He knew he couldn't. He owed her that much. He nodded his head yes, but Grace made no move towards him. Instead she muttered a simple "thank you" and curtsied to him, turning on her heel and leaving the king to his thoughts. Henry did not go after her, thinking it best to let both of them cool off. After all, he wasn't sure what he would do if she snapped at him again.

* * *

 _ **Westminster 1 July 1535**_

Westminster was surrounded by crowds of people, commoners and nobles alike as they awaited the fate of Sir Thomas More. More had arrived by carriage and was being led into Westminster by two guards who held him tightly in their grasps. The crowds parted as they made their way towards the doors, but before they reached them, More spotted something that he thought he would never see. The king had arrived and made his way into Westminster. Many thought he was not to have attended such an event, but apparently Grace had changed his mind. However, that was not what caught More's eye. It was Grace that did so as she held her head high and walked between the parted crowds of people. All bowed to her, More hearing several people yelling out "Lady Neville" in respect to his niece. He was absolutely stunned. He had no idea what was occurring at court. She headed inside Westminster, pulling a cloak over her head as she did so. Warwick was beside her, leading her inside the crowded venue and to the side where an alcove was located. The king had arranged for her to be seated there. Few saw them enter and the king wanted it that way as well as Warwick. Her appearance would cause a commotion otherwise.

The king seated himself at the head of the assembly, next to those who would question More during his trial. As More entered, he could see the king staring in one particular direction and when he looked up, he saw a secluded alcove which concealed his niece from view. Warwick sat with her, grasping her hand tightly as the trial began. More walked forward to the front of the assembly, looking uneasy as he walked between the rows of nobles and clergymen. He halted in front of the three judges, looking down at the floor as he connected eyes with the king. Henry waved his hand, allowing the trial to begin.

One judge asked "Sir Thomas More, you are arraigned before this commission on charges of high treason. How do you answer the charges?" Boleyn and Cromwell, who sat at the head of the assembly, awaited More's answer eagerly. The king looked on as well, his arms resting on the side of his makeshift throne. He looked calm and collected, unlike More's nervous stance.

More spoke clearly, but hesitantly. "Let me begin by denying that I ever maliciously opposed the king's marriage to Anne Boleyn. I've never spoken maliciously against it only sometimes according to my mind, opinion and my conscience and I have suffered as a result." He gulped audibly at the end of his statement, his hands fidgeting and his eyes looking around at the people surrounding him.

"But you have maliciously denied the Act of Supremacy," another judge spoke.

"No, I've been silent upon it. For all my taciturnity, neither your law nor any law in the world is able justly and rightly to condemn me, unless you may also lay to my charge either some word or some deed." Again More cannot make eye contact with his judges for long, staring back at the floor nervously.

"Your silence can easily be construed as an action." The king's hands clasp in his lap and he looks up at Grace who watches her uncle intently. She has no eyes for the king at the moment, only her uncle.

"But even in that case, the presumption that silence gives consent precludes the charge against me. Qui tacet consentire videtur." More retorts.

Grace gives a smile at her uncle's reply while the judges begin talking amongst themselves. "What of the charge that you conspired in prison with Bishop Fisher, a convicted traitor?" More shakes his head, thinking of his friend who had recently been beheaded for the same reason that More may as well give his life for.

More replies "I never met him in prison. I only talked a little with his servant about familiar things." He falters for a moment before regaining his thoughts. He did not want to seem suspicious. "And recommendations, such as were seemly to our long acquaintance." Boleyn's eyes narrow at his words. He did not believe one thing he had just said.

The judges murmur among themselves gain before speaking. "We go back to your supposed silence on the Act of Supremacy. We think you have in fact spoken about it." More's brow furrows at the accusation. "And we have a witness. Call the solicitor general." More's eyes dart towards the sound of an opening door before focusing on Grace. She looks perturbed by the news, worried about what was to happen next. A look of anguish appears on her face as her father tries to comfort her. More's expression is similar to hers as he lets out a sigh of distress. Henry notices his old friend's sign of pain, but does nothing. He just sits there, observing the trial.

A page calls out, "Call Mr. Richard Rich." Rich walks to the head of the assembly, halting directly in front of More whose face is distraught at being tricked by Rich.

One judge states "Richard, you are under oath. Do you tell this commission truthfully, what the accused said to you on this matter?"

"Yes, sir," Rich answers. "We agreed that Parliament might not make any such law that God was not God. To which Sir Thomas said: 'No more can Parliament make the king supreme head of the Church.'" More's face turns from that of distress to outrage. He thought they had speaking amongst one another hypothetically and as colleagues. He had made no such statement literally.

"So he maliciously denied the king's authority? In those words?" More stares in disbelief at Rich.

"Yes, sir. In those exact words." All nobles and clergymen present begin talking among themselves. Henry rubs his hand across his face, frustrated. Grace shakes her head, knowing Rich must be lying. Tears start pouring down her face and she covers mouth to prevent her cries from being heard. Cromwell spares a glance at More before staring ahead as he had been doing.

"Then I will charge this commission to return a true verdict. I ask you, good sirs, to determine whether Sir Thomas More did converse with Sir Richard Rich in the manner alleged." The head judge turns to his two colleagues, both of them nodding their heads at him. "You do so find him guilty." The chatter begins again. "Then I will proceed in judgement against the prisoner." Boleyn sends a cold look of contempt towards More while Cromwell's expression is blank.

More makes one more attempt to speak his mind. "My Lord…My Lord, when I was a lawyer the convention was to ask the prisoner before judgement was given why judgement should not be given against him."

"Oh. What, then, are you able to say to the contrary?" the judge asks. Both Boleyn's and Cromwell's lips from into thin lines and they look down at their laps. Grace holds her father's hand tightly, hoping her uncle's pleas will change their decision. The king leans forward in his seat and he makes eye contact with More for a split second.

"Thank you. To my view this indictment… is grounded upon an Act of Parliament directly repugnant to the laws of God and his Holy Church the supreme governance of which no temporal prince may presume by any law to take unto himself." Grace cannot believe what she is hearing. Her uncle is practically condemning himself to death. Warwick shakes his head at his brother-in-law. "It belongs…It belongs by right to the see of Rome, to Saint Peter, and his successors as our Savior told us himself when he was here on earth." He halts for a moment, seeing the judges shaking their heads. "This realm..this realm being but one small part of the Church cannot make any particular law disagreeable to the general laws of Christ's universal Catholic Church. No more…No more can this realm of England refuse obedience to Rome than can a child refuse obedience to his own natural father." The shouting begins and the head judge slams his gavel against the table. Henry shakes his head once more.

"We now plainly see that you are maliciously bent."

"No, sirs! Not maliciously!" More shouts. "I hope we may all meet merrily in heaven hereafter. And I desire Almighty God to preserve and defend the king's majesty and to send him good counsel." More stares directly at Cromwell when saying his last words while the king stares at More in disbelief. He was determined guilty and yet, he still wished him well.

"Sir Thomas More you are to be drawn on a hurdle through the City of London to Tyburn there to be hanged till you be half dead. After that, cut down alive, your bowels to be taken out of your body and burned before you, your privy parts cut off, your head cut off, your body to be divided in four parts." Grace is hysteric, Henry seeing her frantic crying as she buries her face in her father's shoulder. He feels a pang of guilt, but remains in his seat with his kingly countenance on his face. He shows no emotion as More makes eye contact with him.

"No, no, no," Grace whispers, Warwick holding his daughter tightly. He stands up, guiding her towards the stairs and to the exit of Westminster before More is escorted out. The crowds see them and begin to shout. Grace sees her cousins Margaret and John, wrapping her arms around them as they cry together. Warwick stands with them, facing towards the doors of Westminster. His eyes are tearful, but he remains strong as his brother-in-law appears being dragged by guards through the crowds.

Margaret and her brother drop to their knees. Grace also does so, making the sign of the cross over her chest. "Bless us father," they call out while Grace's voice struggles to make a sound.

"I bless you my children. Be of good cheer for I pray that we shall meet together in heaven!" More shouts out, his voice drowned out among all the others. Suddenly, Grace pushes herself up from her position on the ground, rushing towards her uncle and wrapping her arms around him. Margaret follows suit, both women grasping onto More as the guards try to push them away. They eventually succeed, the women pushed back towards the crowds surrounding them as they stare after More. Grace cries for her uncle and she cries for the king for now, she did not know if she could even look at him.

The king then makes his exit, noticing Grace immediately with her family members. A pang of guilt strikes at his heart and a lump forms in his throat at her distress. Grace raises her head from her cousins' embraces, her eyes bloodshot from her crying. She shakes her head at the king and backs herself as far away from him as possible. The king strides by her, his demeanor almost breaking, but for appearances, he holds himself together. His eyes are glued forward, not even turning his head towards Grace as he passes her. He holds no emotions and appears unbothered by More's sentence as he strides to his carriage. However, as soon as he enters, the curtain is drawn and he breaks down in the privacy of the carriage while the members of his court ride their horses or enter their own carriages. Henry yells in frustration, hitting his hand against the side of the carriage. He wanted to grab Grace, hold her in his arms, but he couldn't. Angry tears fall down his face and he wipes them away roughly. Henry doubted whether she would ever want to be in his presence again. More may have been sentenced for death, but it was the king who was already dead inside.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to my new favs/followers: Kerrras.**

 **Ch. 13**

* * *

 _ **If you have tears, prepare to shed them now**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare**_

* * *

 _ **The Tower of London 3 July 1535**_

Grace refused to see his majesty. For the past two days he had been persistent in trying to talk to her, but she refused all pages, messengers, and anything of the like. No amount of letters would deter her from her decision. She did not want to see him and she would not do so for as long as she remained at court. She was done, finished with him and his affections. She had hoped he would change, see his wrongs, but nothing had worked. And now, she felt like a cast aside mistress with nothing left of her relationship, but the time she had wasted.

All Grace could think of was her uncle, lying awake in his cell in the tower waiting for death to come. He was not allowed to see his family one more time, denied the one thing he desired the most. But, he believed he was giving his life for the Catholic Church. Grace hated him for it, but she loved him for it as well.

To keep herself occupied, Grace focused on serving her majesty as best she could. Anne knew what was on her mind, but said nothing. She despised More like she despised Catherine as both were seen as threats to her ambition and success as queen. Though she felt for Grace, she also believed everything was falling into place. The king had begun to visit her bedchamber again and by the grace of God, she would be pregnant again.

Anne was sitting at her harpsicord, playing a pleasant tune when the king entered her chambers. He often visited her, though most of the time Grace was never present or excused herself from the room when he arrived. However, this time, she was quite unprepared. She didn't even notice he was there until he spoke. "Madam," he said to Anne, spotting Grace in the other room as he walked to Anne's side.

"Majesty," Anne spoke, rising from her seat and pressing a kiss to Henry's cheek. Grace ignored the couple, finishing her work at the fireplace before helping Madge and Frances. She didn't even look their way, choosing to keep her focus on other things. She zoned them out as they spoke to each other. About what matters, she did not know, nor did she care. She was filled with rage at the king and that's what he was. He was no longer Henry, but only the king and she was his subject.

"Lady Neville." Grace heard the queen call out her name and her eyes darted to Anne. The king and queen were both looking at her, Anne with a smile while the king held a pleading look. Grace made her way towards the pair, curtsying when she reached them.

"Majesties," Grace spoke, awaiting whatever it was they were going to say.

"The king and I were wondering what tutoring course you suggest for Elizabeth. We have both heard that you handle the studies of your nephews and nieces in your father's and brothers' absences at court while you are visiting your home. Pray tell me, what do you suggest for Elizabeth?"

"My nieces, Christina and Elizabeth both started their educations at the age of two. We began with Latin and French as well as some reading and arithmetic. Elizabeth is too young for us to consider other subjects, but Christina is four and so we have begun to add Greek as well as geography, and some aspects of science. The more you expose them to when they are younger, the easier it is to continue to add to their educations." Anne nodded her head, impressed with Grace's nieces' education path. Henry was also amazed by the intellectual ability of Grace's nieces, though he did not show it. Instead, he thought of an idea to get her to speak with him and he thought it would work.

"Sweetheart," the king spoke to Anne. The word made Grace cringe internally. "Perhaps Lady Neville can come to my study with me and Mr. Cromwell and we can go over what tutors she may suggest as well as discuss the adding of the Neville girls to Elizabeth's household. I think it's time she has some playmates, don't you think?" Anne agreed with the king, though she was slightly insulted that he had used the term "playmates." It reminded her of her inability to give the king another child.

"Of course," Anne spoke. "Lady Grace," she said, plastering a completely fake smile on her face. Just because she liked Grace did not mean she accepted when the king was alone with her. The king nodded at Anne, raising her hand to his lips before he departed.

"Lady Neville," Henry spoke, gesturing towards the door. Grace walked in front of the king, barely looking at him as she proceeded to his study. He held out his hand for her to take, but she rejected it, instead choosing to let him stride in front of her and lead her to his study. As they walked through the main hall, all could see the tension between them. The courtiers bowed to the king. However, a few of them, including Chapuys, bowed to Grace and muttered "Lady Neville" as she strode by. Once again, the king was mesmerized at the fact that Grace commanded such respect in the room.

The two went into the king's study, Henry excusing all pages from the room and shutting the door behind them. Grace kept her back to the king, biting her tongue to prevent herself from speaking out. She tried to have as much space as possible between her and the king, striding to the other side of the room. She turned to him, her glare staring right into his soul. If she was Medusa, he would have been dead 100 times over. Henry placed his hands on the table, his hands gripping it's sides. "Grace, please talk to me."

"No," Grace said sharply. The king tried to move her way, but as he attempted to near her, she moved herself farther away. He let out a sigh of frustration.

"Grace," Henry said, "Be mature about this and speak to me."

"Mature? You want me to be mature about this?" Grace's voice became a hysteric screech as she stared at him with her venomous green eyes. Henry was wary as he should be, but his own anger got the better of him.

"Thomas defied me. He will not take the oath. He spoke out against me and for his crime, for his treasonous behavior, he has been condemned," Henry responded. "You would want me to let a man be free who threatens everything I have been working for?"

Grace let's out a laugh of disbelief. "So your pride is worth more than a man's life?" she questioned. She halted for a moment, her rage getting the best of her. "Your vanity has clouded your senses. You're a king, start acting like it!" she spoke through clenched teeth. Those words alone made the king's blood boil. He stalked towards her, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to him. Grace let out a sound of protest, but he did not care.

" I have been ordained by God to be king of England on this Earth. It has everything to do with my pride, but do not call me vain, madam." Grace had hit a nerve. His grip around her arm grew tighter.

"But you are vain," Grace relayed, knowing she was pushing the limits of the king. "You are jealous that my uncle has had more of impact on your reformation than you have had over the past two years. You cannot form a new religion overnight, not when you go against the doctrines of the Catholic Church."

"And what would you know about being a king? What would you know about ruling a country? You aren't a monarch. You aren't trying to reform your country," Henry spoke, raising his voice at Grace. He had backed Grace into the table and she had nowhere to go. But, she did not back down. She lifted her chin up, speaking boldly.

"Just because I'm not a monarch does not mean that royal blood does not run through my veins. Just because I am not a monarch does not mean I do not know how to act like a royal. Your earn your title just as much as you inherit it. Nobility does not mean you just have a title, it means proving you are a noble person." That statement alone both angered the king and filled him with admiration for Grace. However, his anger eclipsed his pride for Grace.

"You dare defy me? You dare speak against me in such a way?" Henry questioned. His hands pinned Grace's down on the table and his body pushed up against her. Grace still did not waver from her stance, her striking eyes narrowing at him.

"I do," Grace said simply. The king was exasperated. His a nerve ticked in his jaw and his eyes glowered at her. Still, Grace hid her fear and stood her ground. If it were Anne, the king would be yelling his head off at her right now and would want to be as far away from her as possible. But this was Grace. Deep down he knew she was right, but his pride would not let him acquiesce with her opinion. And the more he argued with her, the more his anger turned into desire. Their noses were practically touching and the king licked his lips in want. Grace's eyes glared right at him, but her eyes still darted down his lips for a split second before looking back in his eyes.

Henry felt very hot, hot and bothered at the fact that Grace was standing right in front of him and standing too close at that. His hands still pinned hers down on the table and he interlaced his fingers with hers before pressing his forehead against hers. He let out a deep sigh mixed of vexation and yearning. When Grace looked into his crystal blue eyes, she saw his combination of lust and fury within them. It was exhilarating, but frightening, and she bit her lip anxiously. She tried to push Henry's weight off of her, but he would not move. Instead, he placed one hand on the back of her head, his fingers buried in her curls, while his other went around her waist roughly, pulling her to him as he pressed his lips aggressively against hers.

Grace tried to push Henry away, her hands hitting against his chest in anger, but he would not relent. She bit his lip, hard, and Henry removed his lips from hers, a shocked expression on his face as he tasted blood on his tongue. She gave him a look of satisfaction, but it did not deter him from his desire. His lips returned to hers quickly and Grace tried to resist a second time, but could not, especially when the king took hold of her wrists and held them behind her back with one hand while the other held her chin gently. As soon as she felt his calloused hand on her chin, she was done for. It was what he always did when he kissed her and she always seemed to lose her senses whenever he did it. She was melting into his embrace just as his anger was dissolving into want and need.

Henry lifted Grace up onto the table, his hands gripping her waist tightly as he did so. Her legs opened for Henry and he stepped in between them. His hands went for her skirts and he lifted them up and placed his hands on the smooth skin of her thighs. He didn't move them any further, her hands halting his before they could move any higher. He listened to her, respecting her boundaries and leaving his hands rubbing the skin of her thighs. Their lips moved against each other's and Grace moved her hands to wrap around the back of Henry's neck. Soon, Henry's lips began to explore the curve of her neck and his hands moved around her waist, grasping tightly.

Henry thought Grace was spellbinding in every way. The way she held his head to her as he kissed her neck and the sounds she made were driving him crazy. His lips drifted back to hers while his hands drifted to her back, reaching the laces on the back of her dress. As soon as she felt the movement, Grace immediately tensed. Henry noticed her uneasiness and he halted instantly, regretting his actions. He placed his hands flat on the table, breathing heavily and bearing his weight on his hands as he held his head over Grace's lap. Grace ran her fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He lifted his head, his eyes connecting with hers. He thought everything would be fixed after he kissed her, but he was quite wrong.

Grace held a serious expression on her face, feeling guilty at having indulged herself in her emotions and betraying her uncle somehow in this way. She pressed past Henry, pulling herself off the table and onto the floor. "Grace," the king spoke, Grace's hands fixing her dress as she walked to the door in which she could exit his study. She hid her face from his as warm tears started to fall down her face. He couldn't understand why she was acting this way until she turned to face him.

"This doesn't change anything," Grace spoke. "Just because there is some type of…" She gestured between herself and the king. She didn't know what was going on between them anyway. She wasn't his mistress, she certainly wasn't wife. She didn't know what she was to the king. "This doesn't fix anything." The king's face switched from that of confusion to gloom. "Majesty, I think it was best if things ended between us," she finished, exiting out the door of his study.

The king watched as she left, his heart struggling in his chest. He felt pained as she departed as he should have revealed his true feelings to her. "You're the woman I love," Henry whispered to himself in the silence of his chambers. He was all alone now and it would stay that. No one was allowed in his chambers. Only Cromwell was given permission to enter as the king drowned himself in wine because of his guilt at More's upcoming execution and his sorrow at loosing Grace.

* * *

 _ **5 July 1535**_

Henry sat in darkness in the confines of his chambers. His eyes were bloodshot and his body was shaking as he held his head in his hands. Cromwell stood before him as the king asked, "When is the execution?"

"Tomorrow, Your Majesty," Cromwell replied. He looked nervous at the king's behavior. Henry stared directly in front of him, looking at nothing, only thin air. He then stared at Cromwell as he awaited an answer.

"What date is that?" Henry questioned. Cromwell looked perplexed at his question, becoming more worried and worried by the second.

"The 6th of July." Cromwell acted as if the king's behavior wasn't bothering him, but it was, immensely.

"What time?" Henry questioned for the third time.

"At 10 in the morning." Henry nodded, pushing himself up from his seat and walking towards his window which looked over the tower green. Cromwell's eyes followed after Henry and both men were silent.

Henry watched as Anne, her brother, and her father strolled out of the gardens. Anne laughed at something, her laugh echoing throughout the room. Henry smiled at his wife who finally seemed to be happy. Grace and Madge followed behind her, though Grace looked as if she wanted to be far away from Anne. Her eyes were held to the ground as she walked and her face transitioned back and forth between wanting to cry and glaring at the back of Anne. Henry frowned. Finally, he spoke to Cromwell. "I've decided to commute the sentence to beheading. Tell the officials."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Cromwell bows to the king, leaving the room and leaving Henry to his never-ending thoughts and his conscience.

* * *

 _ **6 July 1535**_

More kneels before the window of his cell, saying his second to last prayer to God. He speaks, "Pietate tua, quaesumus, Domine, nostrorum solve vincula peccatorum, et intercedente beata semperque Virgine Dei Genetrice Maria cum beato Ioseph ac beatis Apostolis tuis Petro et Paulo et omnibus Sanctis, nos famulos tuos et loca nostra in omni sanctitate custodi; omnes consanguinitate, affinitate ac familiaritate nobis coniunctos a vitiis purga, virtutibus illustra; pacem et salutem nobis tribue; hostes visibiles et invisibiles remove; carnalia desideria repelle: aerem salubrem indulge; amicis et inimicis nostris caritatem largire; Urbem tuam custodi; Pontificem nostrum N. conserva; omnes Praelatos, Principes cunctumque populum christianum ab omni adversitate defende. Benedictio tua sit super nos semper, et omnibus fidelibus defunctis requiem aeternam concede." (Of thy tender mercy, we beseech Thee, O Lord, loose the bonds of our sins, and through the intercession of Mary, the blessed and ever-Virgin Mother of God, together with that of Saint Joseph and Thy blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and of all Thy Saints, keep us Thy servants and our dwelling places in all holiness; cleanse from sin and endow with virtue all those who are joined to us by kindred, affinity and friendship; grant unto us peace and safety; remove far from us our enemies, both visible and invisible; repress all our carnal desires; grant us wholesome air; bestow Thy charity upon our friends and enemies; guard Thy city; preserve our Pontiff N.; defend all prelates and princes and Thine entire Christian people from every adversity. Let Thy blessing be evermore upon us, and do Thou grant unto all the faithful departed rest ever-lasting). A bird calls out in the distance and More is reminded that this may be last time he will hear the sound. Making the sign of the cross over his chest, he says, "Amen," before kissing his silver rosary, his last worldly possession.

* * *

Meanwhile, Grace lies awake in her bed, crying. After all, it was her uncle's execution day. Only she and her father would attend. Her brothers had returned home, not wanting to see the death of their uncle. But, Grace would be there till the end. Until her uncle breathed his last breath, she would be there.

Rising from her bed, Grace began her day by opening her chest of clothing. She chose a green dress, her uncle's favorite as it highlighted her eyes. It was simple, made of satin, and had no accents on it. She dressed quickly, grabbing her gold cross and tying it around her neck.

Grace emerged from her chambers, her father waiting for her patiently. He nodded at her, holding his hand for her to take. She grabbed it and he squeezed her hand gently. Father and daughter made their way to the tower green, bravely bearing More's fate. As they walked through the halls of the castle, many nodded to them in respect as well as pity. Many believed More was suffering a far worse fate than he deserved. After all, he had been the kings chancellor and advisor for several years, and had served him loyally. He never faltered in his devotion, even when the king was pushing his authority or when his pride won over his morals. Some even remembered the days when Cardinal Thomas Wolsey was alive and how him, the king, and More talked about humanism. Those were the glory days, a time before Henry became fearful over his succession and the legacy of his reign that he would leave behind.

Grace and Warwick were the first of many to reach the tower green. Grace's eyes widened at sheer amount of people that were there. It seemed as if there were endless crowds of people still coming. The front of the courtyard directly in front of the scaffold was almost filled.

The crowds parted when they saw the Nevilles, allowing them a place at the front of the executioner's block. The Mores would not be attending for why would a family want to see their patriarch be beheaded? Margaret and John had said their goodbyes. Meanwhile, Alice was angered and also saddened by her husband's actions. She would never see her husband again, but she knew that his sacrifice would live on.

Ambassador Chapuys was among those present and he approached the Nevilles. "Lord Warwick, Lady Neville," he spoke, bowing to the two. "I offer my condolences on this dreadful occurrence we are to witness today." He lowered his voice to a whisper during the last part of his words. "His Holiness and the Emperor are most distraught and offer their support to you during these hard times." Warwick nodded his head and thanked Chapuys, but Grace raised her eyebrows at the ambassadors words.

"Please give my thanks to the Emperor and his Holiness. It lifts my heart knowing that someone else recognizes that a Prince of the Catholic Church, whether my uncle is a cardinal or not, is being killed for the wrong reason. And tell them both that Princess Mary has been reconciled with her father." Chapuys nodded his head back at Grace. He was gladdened by the reconciliation of Mary and the king. He would report such to Catherine when he visited her, if that would be allowed any longer.

It was then that the crowd heard the sound of a board being heaved across the ground. The sea of people parted and Grace spotted her uncle bound to a wooden board. It was being dragged across the ground by a horse whose reigns were ties to the board. They make their way up to the platform and people began to whisper among themselves. More was emotionless, his haggard appearance truly showing how harshly treated he was by those in the tower. His eyes held dark circles underneath them and they were bloodshot. His beard was unruly, not being shaved properly since More lagged the instruments to do so. His clothes were ripped in several places and his shoes looked as if they were about to fall apart.

The guards lowered the board down and untied More from his bindings. He rubbed his wrists as the ropes had been too tight around the fragile skin. He raised himself up from the ground and began to slowly walked towards the scaffold. Two guards stood in front of him while two were behind them as they trudged down the path to death. Many let out shouts of "Bless you, Sir Thomas!" and "God be with you!" and they echoed throughout the courtyard, aiding More and giving him the courage to face his death. Many of them make the sign of the cross.

More's steps became more confidant and he held his head high while he passed all of the courtiers. He spotted Boleyn in the crowd, a satisfied look on his face. But it did not bother More. Boleyn would be consumed by his ambition soon enough, whether he realized it or not. The Boleyns had risen to the highest positions in court, but they had that much farther to fall. Once you had power, it was difficult to keep it, a lesson many learned at court.

More continued his way up to the scaffold, keeping his eyes straight ahead. However, Grace stepped into the path of More and the guards, lowering herself to her knees and looking up towards her uncle with teary eyes. The guards moved aside, allowing her to address her uncle. "I ask for your blessing uncle," she asked, looking up at him expectedly. More was moved to tears by his niece's appearance.

"Of course…" More speaks hoarsely, "Of course I give you my blessing child." More places his hand on the top of her head and mutters a prayer in Latin. The two make the sign of the cross over their chests before More raises Grace back up to her feet. He holds her face in the palms of his hand, Grace holding onto his wrists as he does so. "How much you look like your mother." More gives her a bittersweet smile and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Grace cries out "I know she awaits your presence in heaven and the two of you will look down and watch over us while we are here on Earth. And then we will all be reunited in the kingdom of heaven. We will live in your Utopia." She begins to weep as she speaks and More wraps his arms around his niece and holds her. He knows this is the last time he sees her, but he cannot delay for long. He soon releases her, being embraced by his brother-in-law for a moment. Warwick's eyes are teary though it only occurs for a moment before he plasters on his usual stoic face.

"I shall see you in heaven Richard," More says "and we will both have been lifted of our burdens." Warwick shakes his head in agreeance and lets More continue to the scaffold while he guides Grace back to their previous positions in front of the executioner's block. He stumbles for a moment, reaching to catch himself on the stairs of the platform. Several gasps are let out, Grace's being one of them. She covers her mouth with her hands, hoping her uncle has not lost his resolution. A courtier catches his arm and More is grateful for his actions. "Thank you, Sir Humphrey. But when I come down again let me shift for myself, as well as I can." Humphrey bears a glum look on his face as he nods at More's words.

More regains his balance before ascending up the stairs, walking slowly, but surely to his death. The Duke of Suffolk also looks on, disappointed with the decision of the court. He did not think More deserved to die. His wife, Catherine, was also present. Though she was pregnant, she thought it acceptable and respectful to be there for More's execution. She sent Grace a look of pity, knowing how hard it was to lose the one's you loved.

Meanwhile, the king sits in the darkness of his study, his hands clasped in front of him. He is absolutely exhausted, several of his papers laid out in front of him on the table. The fireplace is blazing though it is the beginning of July.

More walks across the platform and halts directly in front of the executioner's block. He stares out at the massive crowd, amazed by the mass of people that had accumulated on the tower green. He is speechless for a few seconds, the sounds of birds cawing and bells tolling filling his ears. He looks to Grace who sends an encouraging look at her uncle.

More then speaks loud and clear for all to hear. "I ask you to bear witness with me that I shall now suffer death in and for the faith of the Holy Catholic Church." More stares out into the crowd, making eye contact with Boleyn. Boleyn scowls at him, furious with his speech. "I beg you earnestly to pray for the king and tell him I died his good servant, but God's first." Henry strides to the window of his study, staring out onto the tower green. His face is red from rubbing his face in frustration. Grace begins to cry, her hand griping her father's tightly.

The executioner walks forward, kneeling to More. He says "I ask for your pardon and blessing."

More places his hand on the executioner, blessing him. "You give me this day a greater benefit than any mortal man can ever be able to give me." More reaches down, lifting the executioner to his feet. "Pluck up your spirits, man. Be not afraid to do your office." He pats his arm to reassure him that he sees no foul done by him.

The crowds began to murmur, yelling out "God bless you!", "Bless you, Sir Thomas!", and "God be with you!" More gazes out at them one last time before kneeling before the executioner's block. Grace and her father also kneel, the whole crowd following their move. More blocks out all the voices and closes his eyes. His clasps his hands together in prayer and speaks, "Miserere mihi domine, secundum miseratio un tuum." He makes the sign of the cross, the crowd following him.

More lays his head down forward on the block, all watching in silence. He keeps his eyes closed and mutters one last prayer. Grace holds her hands in prayer as well, her tears falling down her face.

Henry stares in awe at More through the window when Mr. Cromwell enters. He nods at the man and as quickly as he appeared, he was gone. Henry turns back to More, his body shaking as he watches his friend embrace death. Henry cries as his guilt completely consumes him. He shouts out, rubbing his hands over his face and head. The executioner picks up his ax and awaits the signal.

All hold silent, More gripping the block tightly. Suddenly, he opens his eyes and lets out a gasp as he thrusts his arms out. One hand holds his silver cross. He focuses on his Grace, the one he would chose to last see while he was still present on earth. She is beautiful in every way, even if she is crying. The executioner swings his blade into the air.

"Stop, in the name of the king!" The executioner halts his blow, barely missing More. He stumbles backwards as he tries to get a grip on the ax. More raises himself up on his knees, unaware of what was happening. Grace turns her head, looking towards the voice and wiping the tears from her eyes. Several shouts of agreeance are heard and the people begin to talk amongst themselves. Boleyn is absolutely furious. He turns on his heel and departs the scene, unwilling to hear what Cromwell has to say.

Cromwell approaches the platform and ascends the stairs, heading straight for More and lifting him up. He turns to the crowd and speaks. "His majesty has pardoned Sir Thomas More and declares that his sentence has been declared null and void. All lands, titles, and incomes will be returned to Sir Thomas and his family, and, if willing, Sir Thomas will be allowed a position at court as a member of Parliament and as an advisor to the king." Grace lets out a cry of relief, her heart filled with joy at the king's decision. It seemed he had changed after all and that she had judged him too quickly. Henry was not the tyrant everyone thought he was turning into. He was a man of change and forgiveness. Several murmurs are heard through the crowds as they speak of the king's decision.

Grace rushes onto the platform and into her uncle's arms. More holds her tightly and the two fall to their knees as they embrace. "It seems, dear uncle, that you do not need to be a martyr for the Catholic faith today as the king has seen reason and realizes the faults he has done towards you," Grace mutters, burying her face in her uncle's chest.

"No, my darling Grace, for you have showed him the true path of change, haven't you?" Grace smiles at her uncle's words. More kisses his niece's forehead and gazes at her in admiration. "Go to him," he continues. "I'm sure he is awaiting your arrival." Grace nods at her uncle's words, rising to her feet and leaving her uncle with her father as she heads to the king's chambers. Cromwell nods at her as she passes, but stays with More and Warwick to discuss certain matters with them. Grace gathers her strength as she makes her way through the palace. She did not know what to say or what to do. All she did know was that the king had spared her uncle. But why?

* * *

 **A/N: I told you all that things would make sense this chapter! You didn't think I would really kill him off did you ;) Hope you guys enjoyed.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Next chapter is up! Hello to my new favs/followers: Newgurl312, TheNymphOfTheCherryTree, vampdiaries5698, darkwolf76, Winterfellx, mishuu, and Atn87. And thank you to guests who have reviewed!**

* * *

 **Ch. 14**

 _ **To do a great right do a little wrong**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare**_

 _ **What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.**_

 _ **~Pericles**_

* * *

 _ **The Tower of London 6 July 1535  
**_

Grace had no idea what she would say to the king when she saw him. All she did know was that he had spared her uncle for some unknown reason. She had seen the looks of relief on people's faces, but also those of hatred. Her family had enemies and some were in positions of power who had the ability to crush them if so needed. However, Grace knew that if the king favored her, nothing would happen to her and her family. She knew she had his favor and she felt guilty that she could use it to that type of advantage, but her family's safety was everything.

As she made her way from the tower green to the king's throne room, Grace could feel all eyes on her. It was as if she were on parade for all to see. First, she was to be the niece of the fallen Sir Thomas More and now she was the niece of a man saved and pardoned. The fate of her family had changed within a matter of minutes, displaying the king's rapid change of mind and how he was now very undecisive in certain matters. He was straying from his evil counsel and heading towards those of good faith.

Grace made her way directly to the king's throne room, undeterred as many of the courtiers were still on the tower green. The doors to the throne room were open and Grace immediately spotted the king in his throne, his face resting on his hand and a pensive look on his face. He looked tired, as if this decision had caused him pain over the pass few minutes. His eyes had dark shadows underneath them and his eyes were darker than usual. Grace was cautious as she approached him, dropping into a curtsy and holding that position. The king's eyes drifted over her figure, watching intently.

"Majesty," Grace spoke. She kept her eyes pinned to the floor though she could feel the king's gaze on her.

"Grace," the king spoke in a hoarse voice. He waved his hand at Grace, allowing her to rise from her curtsy. It was absolute silence between the pair for a few seconds, the king looking at Grace while Grace stared at the floor.

Grace then set her eyes on the king, green connecting with blue. When she looked into his eyes, Grace truly saw how he was feeling. He was conflicted over this more than anything, but Grace needed an answer.

"Why?" Grace questioned, "Why did you spare him after all this time?"

Henry had been expecting the question, but he was unsure how to answer it. He cleared his throat, saying "Sometimes a king's pride is not worth the life of a man who merely keeps his opinion to himself." He hesitated before continuing, taking a deep breath. Grace could not understand why he was acting so. "And sometimes it is not worth losing the one you love." Grace's eyes widened at his statement and she took a few steps back from him, her entire body shaking. Henry pushed himself out of his chair, reaching for her and grasping her face in his hands.

"No, no you don't," Grace spoke, tears welling up in her eyes. She was overcome with shock and she tried to push herself away from the king, but he would not let her.

"Yes, I do. I love you my sweet Grace," Henry responded. He pressed a kiss to her forehead in a loving manner. Grace still did not believe him.

"No, you cannot," Grace spoke, shaking her head at him as she placed her hands on his wrists.

"But I do," Henry replied. "With every fiber of my being, with every breathe I breath, I love you." Grace continued shaking her head. She was overcome with emotion from her uncle's almost execution and now the king's declaration. The king continued his speech, holding Grace's face in his hands. "I don't just love you for your beauty and your intelligence, but your kindness, your ability to see a person's true self and encouraging them to embrace that rather than be someone else. You don't let anyone treat you with disrespect, you command it and you expect others to act the same way as it is the right thing to do. You don't look down on others, you try to help them. You love both my daughters equally and you embrace them both. And I love you for your free spirit, for that fire you possess within you. I love you sweetheart." The king pressed his forehead against hers before pressing his lips against hers. He was gentle, but passionate as he tried to show her he truly meant what he said. Grace let him kiss her, tears still falling down her face as he did so. Henry wrapped his arms around, holding her against him. He pulled away and said, "Don't cry my sweetheart. All will change. I promise you that."

"This doesn't change anything between us," Grace spoke. Henry spared a small smile for Grace as he pulled her into his embrace. He knew he would have to regain her trust. Her head lay sideways on his chest and she could hear the sound of his heartbeat. It comforted her and she rubbed her face against him. One of Henry's hand laid on her back while the other embedded itself in her chocolate curls. He took in her scent and kissed the top of her head lovingly. The two of them stood there, in the openness of the throne room, just holding each other.

Unbeknownst to them, More, Warwick, and Suffolk were walking towards the throne room with a trail of courtiers behind them. More was being supported by his brother-in-law, his weak body catching up to him in the aftermath of his adrenaline. He immediately halted when he saw Grace in the arms of the king, his mouth falling opening in disbelief. Warwick and Suffolk noticed as well, but their reactions were the complete opposite of More's as they had known how deep the king's affections were for Grace. The king made eye contact with More over the head of Grace, and released her unwillingly from his embrace.

"Majesty," More spoke, stepping forward and bowing to the king in respect. Henry eyes him for a moment, feeling Grace's touch on his arm in encouragement. He stepped forward, picking More up from his position.

"Thomas," Henry spoke, "Forgive me." His hands went to the shoulders of his old friend and grasped them tightly. More merely nodded and the king embraced him in a brotherly manner. All had been forgiven, though More had said nothing. Henry realized that and he was truly grateful. He needed more men like More in his realm.

The courtiers began to clap at the king's and More's reconciliation, Grace beaming brightly at the scene. However, there were a few who were greatly troubled by today's events. The Boleyns stood in the corner of the hall, George analyzing the scene while Thomas held a scowl on his face. Cromwell stood beside them, also partially dismayed. The king had spared a man's life, but at what cost? Surely Cromwell's charge with the reformation would be affected and all three of them disliked that very much. However, the Boleyns felt more threatened at the king's favor of Grace. Yet, they had to deal with her whether they liked it or not. After all, she had not spoken against the queen and seemed to be advancing Anne's position rather than halt it. But, everyone knew she supported Mary and Catherine, though it was unspoken. Boleyn would keep an eye on her, he would be sure of that.

* * *

A small rift had been caused between the queen and king at the failure of More's execution. There had been a small argument which ended in the king storming from Anne's chambers to his own. Anne was furious that More had been allowed to live for she thought his rejection of the oath was an insult to her. Henry had silenced her immediately, pointing out that More was his loyal and obedient subject. Anne was furious, not backing down which resulted in Henry's departure.

More had returned home to Crosby Hall, Warwick and his family following. Grace also went as well, asking Anne for leave from court for a short time. Anne complied though she was terse with her in the fact that she would not be gone for more than a month. Grace understood why for Anne feared the king would visit her while she was gone or that his attention would wander to another lady. Anne could not risk that. She had only just got him back and now it seemed all was not well as she thought.

* * *

 _ **Sudeley Castle 22 July 1535**_

The Tudor court had begun its progress for the summer, traveling throughout the southern part of England to the various properties of nobles and of the crown. They had departed from Windsor on the 8th of July, first heading to Reading Abbey and then Ewelme Manor. They would soon be going to Abingdon Abbey, Langley Palace, Sudeley Castle, Tewkesbury Abbey, Gloucestershire Abbey, Berkeley Castle, Thornbury Castle, Acton Court, Sodbury Manor, and places within Wiltshire, Hampshire, and Easthampstead.

Henry and his courters had arrived at Sudeley Castle and he had just settled into his personal apartments before summoning Cromwell. He wished to know the extent of Cromwell's work with the religious houses and how to proceed. A clock chimes in the room as Cromwell enters and the man himself clears his throat. Henry faces a window, keeping his back to Cromwell as he speaks. "How is your survey of the religious houses progressing?" he questions.

"Majesty, the commissioners are currently examining houses in the West Country. There and elsewhere, they tell me they have uncovered many enormities." Cromwell hopes this news will help the king to continuously stray from the Catholic faith and move towards a more Protestant view.

Henry turns to face Cromwell, a look of alarm on his face. "What enormities?"

Cromwell's tone is that of disgust. "They have found the monks in many places so depraved so licentious and so corrupt, that your commissioners already despair of any perfect reformation." Henry approaches Cromwell as he talks, sitting on the edge of the table. He sighs in frustration while Cromwell delivers the news. "For example, the case of the celebrated Holy Blood of Hailes, supposedly the blood of a saint used for healing the pilgrims who flock there hoping for a miracle. It turns out to be the blood of a duck, which the monks renew regularly." Henry rises from his position, anger in his eyes and his nostrils flaring.

"Duck's blood?" Henry asks. Cromwell shakes his head yes and turns his eyes to the floor. He cannot look Henry in the eyes while his anger flares. Henry scoffs. "Well, Mr. Cromwell, what do you propose we do about it?"

Cromwell is pleased with Henry's reaction, though he is careful not to show it. "If Your Majesty will forgive me, I think we should be looking for ways to promote your majesty's new monarchy." He clasps his hands in front of him as he speaks.

"What do you have in mind?" Henry questions, eager to know of Cromwell's ideas.

"One way would be through the production of plays," Cromwell responds.

"Why plays?" Henry is perplexed by Cromwell's answer, but nevertheless, is curious.

"Plays are an ideal way of setting forth the abomination and wickedness of the Bishop of Rome. They also are means to demonstrate to people the obedience that, as subjects, they owe, by God's and man's laws, to your majesty." Cromwell is passionate as he speaks. He truly believes plays and other creative ways are expression that are key to gaining the people's obedience and faith in the king. Much of England still supported the Catholic faith and by using plays, perhaps they would be convinced of the papacy's corruption and trust his majesty's reformation.

"Good," Henry replies, pleased with Cromwell's plans. "Then I leave it to you, Mr. Secretary, to finance and produce some plays. We must do all we can to advance our revolution." Cromwell bows to his majesty and heads to the exit of the room. However, Henry says "One more thing Mr. Secretary." This halts Cromwell's exit and he turns back to the king. "I would like Warwick or perhaps, his sons, aid in your plans as well as continue to report on the status of religious houses. Am I understood?" Cromwell nods at the king, though he is displeased with his request. He says nothing, but leaves the king in his chambers to start working on his plans.

Henry heads out of his rooms and heads to the stables. Only the members of the king's chambers know he has left and they are quick to alert Cromwell of the king's departure. He horse is already saddled, and he mounts quickly. Meanwhile, Anne is walking through the manor with her father. She hears the sounds of horses outside and stops speaking to her father. Her ladies halt behind her, unaware of what was unhappening. They each exchanged confused glances.

"What is it?" Boleyn questions, noticing his daughter's facial expression.

"Nothing, I…" Anne hears the sound of Henry's voice. "Excuse me, Father." She hastens to the nearest window and looks out, seeing her husband on horseback. She stares after him as he rides away, wondering where he is going and why he is leaving without telling her.

* * *

 _ **Warwick Castle 23 July 1535**_

Henry had been riding for hours, stopping for a mere two hours to rest and replenish the horses. His guards were perplexed by his haste at leaving Sudeley Castle as well as the fact that they had not reached their destination yet. The king had mentioned that they were heading to Warwickshire, hinting that they were traveling to Warwick Castle. All the guards knew what was there, grinning at each other, but saying nothing.

Henry urged his horse to go faster and faster, his guards trailing behind him. He could see Warwick Castle on the horizon, the top of the structure appearing behind hills of green. Henry could feel the adrenaline running through his veins as his stallion pushed forward. Finally, he could see the gates of Warwick castle and they entered the courtyard one by one. Only Warwick was present, his guards at the watchtower having alerted him of the king's arrival. He had chosen to leave his family to their own devices as they were enjoying their time in the garden. The More family was also there, Thomas enjoying his time with his late sister's family.

"Majesty," spoke Warwick, "What a pleasant surprise."

"Richard," Henry said, dismounting from his horse and embracing Warwick. "I hope I'm not disturbing you and your family." He held Warwick at arm's length, waiting for his response.

"Of course not," replied Warwick. "Your presence is always welcome majesty." He gestured towards the doors of his home. "Come." The two walked into the opening hallway of the structure, Warwick leading the king outside to the gardens where everyone was enjoying the beautiful day. Warwick's grandchildren were playing tag with each other, the older boys chasing after their little cousins. Elizabeth and Christina giggled with glee while their younger sister Eleanor and younger cousin Henry wobbled around on their unsteady feet. Mary Boleyn bounced her fourth month old, Anne, in her lap, John sitting beside her on the chairs placed out around the table. Christian and Mary, and Richard and Anne were also among the adults sitting at the table as well as Alice More, Margaret More, and the rest of their family, chatting and drinking wine from their cups. An array of platters were laid out in front of them for their midday meal. Grace and Thomas More sat a few feet away from the main group, sitting on the edge of a fountain and watching while her brother Arthur appeared to be practicing archery a few feet away from them.

Warwick cleared his throat as they walked out into the sun. All eyes were on the king as and they began to rise to bow or curtsy, but Henry gestured for them to remain in their seats. Grace stayed put in her spot at the fountain, in no way surprised by the king's arrival. She knew he would visit sooner or later considering that her uncle and herself were there. Her eyes flittered over him, waiting. "There's no need for formalities today. Please, sit," spoke the king. The Neville and More families were both taken aback at the king's words. The women remained in their seats while the men went to greet the king.

Upon seeing More, Henry embraced his dear friend warmly. "My dear Thomas, I wish to speak with you and Warwick about some matters of England. I need both of your opinions." Thomas nodded his head at the king.

"Of course majesty," Thomas replied. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, trying to figure out how to say his next words. "Majesty, I would like to remain out of government and enjoy my time with my family if you will allow me to do so."

"Of course Thomas," Henry responded. He patted his friend on the back. "I only seek your council and guidance. If you do not wish to participate in government matters, I will not force you too as I did before. I see now I was too rash and you should not be placed in a position where you are forced to speak against your conscience." He was sincere in his words for his friend had suffered much over the past year. "We shall talk about this later, the three of us." More and Warwick nodded at Henry's words, hoping whatever it was that the king truly wanted their honest opinion. They had a hunch that it concerned the king's reformation and they were prepared to give the king their opinion on what they believed Cromwell should and should not be doing to achieve the king's will.

The king then turned to Grace, having spotted her immediately when he entered the garden. She looked so peaceful, like an angel as she sat by the fountain. He turned away from More and Warwick, smiling brightly as he strode to Grace. She remained in her spot, her face unreadable as he approached her. She went to curtsy to him when he was directly in front of her, but Henry kneeled before her, taking her hands in his and kissing the palms of each.

More raised his eyebrows at the scene, turning to Warwick for an answer. Warwick merely shrugged his shoulders, unable to give More an explanation. Grace had not told him anything. Christian was the only one who truly knew the extent of the king and Grace's relationship.

"Sweetheart," Henry said, rising from the ground and pulling Grace into his arms. He placed his hands on her waist while her own hands went to his chest.

"Majesty," Grace spoke, "I thought I told you that we could not continue as we were." She went to back away from the king, but he kept her within his embrace.

"I am not willing to let you go." Grace's eyes looked downward while Henry said such things.

"You are married. You have a wife who loves you dearly, a wife who is faithful to you." Grace bit her lip, hoping not to spark the king's temper. "Why would you hurt her in this way?"

"Grace," Henry warned. His grip tightened on her waist. "Do not bring her up right now. I have come to enjoy my time with you and you alone." He let out a frustrated sigh and he tried to explain himself. "Anne has pushed her limits. I can only do so much for Elizabeth right now. I have England to worry about. Besides, I cannot keep my mind off of you. You have enchanted me." Grace went to interrupt, but Henry would not let her. "There are many things you do not understand that go on between us. When my resolved weakened, when I would want to spare your uncle, she would push me forward. She would convince me to continue on the path I had taken." Grace had no clue Anne had done such a thing and she frowned. The queen was very much capable of forwarding her own agenda, even if it meant eliminating an innocent man who saw God above a king.

"I did not know," Grace whispered, turning to look at her uncle. He looked so happy, as if a burden had been lifted off of his shoulders. He was still weak from his time in the tower and it would take some time before his appetite returned. But nevertheless, he was alive. "Still…This…" She gestured between herself and Henry.

"You cannot keep me from you Grace. I love you." Henry pressed his forehead against hers.

Grace pulled herself from Henry's grasp. "Love can be confused for lust. I'm sure you'll tire of me soon enough." Henry's face immediately became red and his jaw tightened. He said nothing, instead walking past her. Grace curtsied to Henry as he walked passed her and back towards her father and uncle. She knew she had been insulting with her words, but she could not continue with whatever it was that transpired between them. It was wrong, she knew that now. And she felt extremely guilty for she was loyal to Anne and to Mary. She remained where she was, sitting by the fountain and staring into the water as she let her thoughts over take her.

* * *

Henry was furious at having been spurned of his affections for Grace, striding away from Grace angrily. He did not understand why she continued to resist him. He had out his heart on his sleeve and she stabbed at it like it was nothing. He had thought that she had finally admitted to herself that she cared for him, but now, he wasn't sure. Yes, he knew her conscience dictated that she was committing a sin against God, but he was the king of England and he loved her. He loved Anne too. She was his wife and the mother of his child. He respected her, saw her as his equal, but when she tried to undermine him, when she tried to go against him, he became infuriated. Grace did so as well, but only when it concerned the life of her uncle. When he asked for her advice, she gave it to him, though she suggested several options instead of the one she favored the most. And she knew, as he did, that it did not matter what was best for him, but for the people.

Turning back to Warwick and More, he pulled the men aside and asked if they could speak in private for a few moments. The men conceded to his request and Warwick suggested that they talk in his office. The three men headed towards the office, Warwick shutting the doors behind him. He dismissed all servants who were attending to their chores in his office, wanting complete privacy as the men talked.

"Gentlemen, I would like for the both of you to give me your opinion on my reformation. Mr. Cromwell has headed the enterprise so far and has uncovered many enormities within my realm. I ask you to help me on how to progress," the king spoke.

"What enormities have you discovered exactly, majesty?" questioned Thomas, dubious about what Cromwell had told the king.

Henry began to pace in front of the fireplace, holding his hands behind his back. "Cromwell uncovered a most malicious plot. The Holy Blood of Hailes is not real, but is replaced weekly by duck's blood," Henry spoke in a spiteful tone.

"Duck's blood?" Thomas questioned. His eyebrows rose at such an accusation. "Majesty, I would like to ask exactly what Mr. Cromwell has told you about the reports of the monasteries."

"As far as I'm concerned, they are most corrupt and proceed in lecherous and unholy states. I hope that our reformation will be able to handle these issues and free these people from the treachery of the papacy." Cromwell and Warwick connect eyes at the king's words, concerned with his behavior.

"Majesty, I am sure that not all monasteries are as Mr. Cromwell says they are," states Warwick. He is much disturbed by Cromwell's zeal for such a radical reform. "Perhaps it would be fit for me and Thomas to visit some of these monasteries and report on our findings if to only inform your majesty on what is happening in your realm."

Henry nods and smiles at the two. "That would much appreciated. I need men like you both in my vicinity." He turns to Thomas, placing his hands on his friend's shoulders. "And I hope that we can be as we were, Harry and Thomas."

"All is forgiven Harry. I am your most humble servant and wish to assist you in all that I can, but only if I am spared from the public eye." More lets out a small chuckle. "I do not agree with participating in government as much as I used to."

Henry also lets out a laugh. "Of course Thomas. I would never want to put you in such a position." He addresses both men with his next statement. "All will be different gentlemen, everything will change." He turns out to the window, pleased with the vision he has for England, but Warwick and More are not as confident. Both share the same feeling of anxiousness as they watch the king. They feel as if he is heading down the wrong path. Yes, visiting the monasteries and checking for corruption was a necessity, but punishing those who had good reports seemed unnecessary. Though Henry would deny it, Warwick and More both knew he was a true Catholic. He did not agree with all of Cromwell's ideas, but merely a few. They knew they would have to halt Cromwell in his radicalization of the church or influence the king to come to some kind of consensus with the papacy. Either way, they would be sure that those innocent of such corruption would be spared and that perhaps the king would see some reason in returning to the Catholic faith.

* * *

 _ **Sudeley Castle 25 July 1535**_

Anne sat at the harpsicord, playing the instrument gracefully. Lady Madge and Lady Frances were fixing her bed while Grace was tending to the fire. Lady Anne had fetched Anne's brother, George, who entered her quarters with a cautious demeanor. He nodded at Anne, approaching his sister. He reached for her hand, rubbing the skin comfortingly. She stopped playing, bringing George's hand to her lips and kissing it in a sisterly manner. Madge thought otherwise, eyeing the siblings.

"What is it?" George questioned.

"He's having more affairs," Anne spoke, a distraught look on her face.

"Are you sure?" George asks.

"Of course I'm sure. Often, I can't find him. No one will tell me where he is. He leaves the palace, I know that. He's gone for hours sometimes." Anne lets out a chuckle. "I think he's got a harem somewhere. There's a place where he keeps his harem, where he keeps his women. I know it." She thinks about what occurred a few days ago. She had watched the king ride off into the distance, only guards attending on him. She wondered and she worried about where he was and what he was doing, but she said nothing as of yet. She would though. She needed to know what her husband was doing.

"Anne." George rubs his sister's back in comfort. He does not believe a word she says.

"Ohhh…" Anne speaks, rising from her seat and pacing in her chambers. "Something's going to happen to me."

"No," George says loud and clear.

"You know there's a prophecy. Everyone knows it. The prophecy says a queen of England will be burned." Anne scarily believes this prophecy is about her and dreads the day it will occur. George shakes his head frantically, gathering his sister in his arms.

"Don't talk like this. Nothing's going to happen to you." George places his hands on his sister's face and kisses her forehead to try and reassure her.

"I'm unable to give a king a son…a son…to be the living image of his father." Anne begins to cry as she talks and George can hear the pain in her voice. He knows that her position, maybe even her life, depends on the birth of a son, but she knows it is much more than that. Anne could lose the love of a king and then they all would be in trouble, George and their father included.

"Shhh…" George whispers as he pulls Anne close to him. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright." He holds her in his arms. "Please, don't cry. I love you. I'll look after you, I swear. Please don't cry." George holds his sister in his arms and kisses her face and the top of her head as he tries to calm her fears. However, to Lady Madge it looks nothing like sibling love. She has a distorted view of the scene, her eyes widening in disgust at the two. The Boleyns have no clue they are being closely watched by their cousin, but if they had, they would have realized how wrong their cousin viewed everything she had just seen.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Next chapter is up! Hello to my new favs/followers: nalla7, anne's creations, wicked innocent, MrsChaolWestfall, Squintz18, and klove93.**

* * *

 **Ch. 15**

" _ **Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,**_ _ **passing through nature to eternity."**_

 _ **Hamlet,**_ _ **Act I, Scene II, Line 73**_

* * *

 _ **Berkeley Castle 7 August 1535**_

Court had moved to Berkeley Castle, Grace returning after having a month's time to spend with her family. She had continued to avoid the king, much to his chagrin. To make matters worse, Anne and Henry had argued at dinner, a scene which Grace herself witnessed unwillingly when she returned from Warwick Castle and Crosby Hall. A taster tested the food for poison before nodding his head at servants to carry the rest of the food to the table. Others poured wine into chalices while the taster places the plates of food in front of Henry and Anne. Grace and Mary Howard stand behind Anne, waiting on her and the king.

Henry sips from his chalice as Anne speaks. "Will you ask the French ambassador again if Francis will not relent and agree to the marriage of Elizabeth to his son?" Henry stops drinking, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I might," Henry replies as he begins to eat. Grace watches the conversation tensely, knowing Anne would not let this go.

"Well, don't you think it's important? Don't you think your daughter is important?" Anne pushes.

"Of course I do." Henry cares for his daughter greatly. He just wished Anne would stop pushing the matter so much. He had many more things than his daughter's betrothal to worry about. When the time came, he would put all his effort into finding Elizabeth a husband, but now he was focusing on his reformation.

"Well, then I…" Anne continues. Grace looks up towards the ceiling, wishing she was anywhere else than in that room.

Henry interrupts, his temper getting the better of him. "Surely you understand Francis' refusal to agree to the marriage in the first place was insulting." He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering to Grace. Anne turns her eyes down, cringing at his tone. "Do you want me to go back and beg?" he questions.

"No, of course not," Anne responds quietly. She picks at her food in front of her, picking a piece up and smelling it.

Henry calms when he sees her anxiousness. Clearly, she is paranoid. "Sweetheart it's been tasted. It's not poisonous." Grace flinches at his use of the word "sweetheart." Henry eats a piece of chicken to prove so, calming Anne's fears. He continues with his speech. Anne finally begins to eat. "The fact of the matter is it might be better to pursue an alliance with the emperor." Grace's attitude perks up at that. The king was heeding her advice much to her surprise.

"And that would suit Catherine," Anne says snippily. Grace rolls her eyes as it had nothing to do with Catherine, but with maintaining the alliances England had with other European nations.

"It has nothing to do with Catherine." Henry speaks with authority at her statement. It is his decision what to do for the welfare of England. "It has to do with England. And England's interests. After all I am supposed to be concerned with that." Grace watches Anne intently, waiting to see what she will do next.

Anne nods at Henry's words and reaches forward to place her hand over his. She decides to give in to his demands rather than fight him and sets aside her pride. "I'm sorry. Forgive me," she says quietly. Grace lets out a sigh of relief.

Henry's eyes flicker from his plate back to Anne. He speaks in an understanding tone. "You have no reason to be. You care for our daughter, as you should." Anne smiles at his words, a look of victory on her face. However, he suddenly grasps her hand tightly as he slams his hand over hers. The movement startles Grace as she jumps at the sound and lets out a small whimper. Henry's eyes glance over her for a split second before focusing on Anne. "But leave the greater things to my care. Do you understand?" Anne goes to protest, but Henry still holds her hand tightly while also sending her a look of firmness. Anne nods again and says nothing. Both return to their meals, Anne stinging from her husband's partial scolding. Henry looks to Grace once more, but she keeps her eyes forward instead of turning her head towards his. She can feel his eyes on her, but ignores him. She chooses instead to act as if what she just saw did not bother her when in fact it did. She disliked the way Henry tried to control Anne. She was only concerned about Elizabeth as any mother would be about their child. But she would say nothing, do nothing, that would hint at her disapproval. She kept silent, as did Anne, throughout the rest of the meal. And when Anne went to leave, she followed after her, sparing no look for the king.

* * *

 _ **Hatfield 12 August 1535**_

Grace was sent to Hatfield very soon after her arrival at Berkeley Castle, Anne wanting to hear of news of her daughter and to bring her back to court for her second birthday around the end of August. Grace was glad for she was reunited with Mary whom she had not seen for many months. Of course, Anne's aunts and Lady Bryan were watchful of Mary and Grace, but whenever Grace sent them venomous looks, they scattered. After all, she still was a favorite of the king even if she disliked it.

Mary and Grace enjoyed their time together, taking long walks in the garden, going on rides for hours, sewing together, practicing playing their instruments and of course, watching Elizabeth. She was excelling greatly with her tutoring, a child prodigy. She was learning quickly, impressing Grace, Mary, and her tutors. She truly was Henry's and Anne's child with such intellect.

And yet, Grace tried to occupy her time equally between Mary And Elizabeth. She would say her daily prayers and have breakfast with Mary before helping with Elizabeth and attending her tutoring lessons with her. She would then have lunch with them both before putting Elizabeth down for her nap, during which, she and Mary would perform whatever activities together that they wished too. Elizabeth would then have a second part of lessons which Mary and Grace would both attend. Grace's day would then end with dinner with Elizabeth and then putting her down for bed before spending a few more hours with Mary before they both retired to their chambers. More than often, Grace and Mary would share a bed, falling asleep next to each other as they talked of court.

Once such evening, Mary decided to interrogate her friend about her father. They had both slipped their nightgowns on and braided each other's hair. They laid on their sides, facing each other. Mary was very quiet, thinking over what she would say to Grace. Her friend noticed her dilemma.

"What is it?" Grace questioned, leaning up on her elbow.

Mary remained laying on her side, her face in the palm of her hand. "You seem different," Mary retorted. "Did something happen?"

Grace immediately turned red and tried to hide her face from Mary, but her friend was not so ignorant as she thought. "What happened?" Mary pushed.

Grace sat up on the bed, bring her knees to her chest. She shrugged at Mary, not knowing what to tell her. Of course, her uncle's saving from execution had been mentioned, but she had not told Mary of her father's declaration of love to her and her rejection of it. "Your father told me he loved me….and I rejected his affections."

Mary was astounded at such news. "But…But why?"

"What do you mean why? He's married," Grace spoke, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"He's living in a sin with a woman who is not my mother," Mary said in a disgusted tone.

"He's still married nonetheless, Mary. I'd be committing a sin against God. One shall not covet what is another's and in this case, he is bound to your mother and to Anne." Grace was trying to get Mary to understand, but her hatred of Anne consumed her.

"That woman is nothing, but my father's concubine," Mary retorted.

"I know Mary, but that is not how your father sees it. That is not how Lutheran or Protestant people see it. They see your father's divorce as lawful and as a way to break from the Catholic Church." Grace saw the rights and wrongs of both stories. Catherine was a wonderful wife and queen, but she had only born the king one living child. A woman had never ruled England and though Henry believed in his daughter, a foreign ruler would do no good for England. Yes, Anne was seen as the woman who manipulated the king into asking for a divorce, but Henry had sought out one before he had even met Anne. He truly loved Anne while he loved Catherine as a boy would love a woman. After all, she was his brother's widow. There were passages in the bible that supported both Henry's and Catherine's suits, which made it difficult for Grace to truly side with either royal. What had happened to Catherine was wrong, but the fact that the people of England blamed Anne for bad harvests and disease was insane. It drove Grace absolutely crazy. She just hoped Mary would one day understand her point of view.

"I am a Catholic and will remain so until my death," Mary spoke. "Lutheranism and Protestantism are not the true faith of God."

"You may think so, but to others, they have experienced the negative side of Catholicism. They have been subjected to the greed and corruption of princes of the church who forward themselves without thinking of the consequences." Mary frowns at Grace's words. "What about Elizabeth? You do not hate her for you father's actions, do you?"

"Of course not," Mary muttered, twirling an auburn curl between her fingers. "I love my sister, even if she is that woman's child."

"Exactly," Grace responded. "So you should not be angry at those who are affected by the change within this realm." Grace bit her lip as she spoke her next words. "You do not hate me, do you?"

"No Grace. I could never hate you. I just wonder at my father's affections towards you," Mary replies.

"You need not worry any longer. I'm sure he will no longer pursue me. One of the other courtiers can place their daughters in his way." Grace grimaced t her own words. It was if the king was a prize to be one for one family of court and the Boleyns were the winners as of now. Mary could see the pained expression on Grace's face. She knew her friend would not admit to her the extent of her feelings for her father, but she would let it be. She did not mind at all that her father favored Grace. What she did mind was that Grace was too blind sighted to realize her own feelings and that she spurned a man who truly loved her.

"That may happen Grace, but my father will always be thinking of you," Mary spoke.

"That's where you are wrong Mary." Grace laid down on the bed and pulled the covers around her body, turning so that her back faced Mary. This signaled the end of their conversation and Mary said nothing, instead blowing out the candle on her bedside, laying on her back, and going to sleep as well. They were not angry at each other, just irritated with the other. The two fell asleep, Mary thinking of her mother and Grace thinking of the king.

* * *

 _ **13 August 1535**_

It was a normal day, Grace sitting with both Tudor sisters in her chambers as they read to Elizabeth before her nap. Lady Bryan was the one who alerted them, rushing into Grace's chamber and telling her that mysterious riders were approaching Hatfield. Grace held Elizabeth in her arms as she approached the window, eyeing the men suspiciously. Elizabeth buried her face into Grace's chest, making her smile at the adorable princess. She thought nothing of the men, until they began to stab the guards aggressively at the gate. The men held the guards sliding to the ground as blood poured out of their wounds. Grace grasped Elizabeth to her chest, her eyes connecting with Mary as they both realized the seriousness of the situation. Assassins had just entered the premises of Hatfield to kill either Elizabeth or Mary.

Grace immediately sprang into action, telling Lady Bryan to lock herself and the other ladies in the kitchen or basement of the castle, taking the key with her until night arrived. She also asked her to send a few pages to her so that perhaps they could leave the castle and warn the king as he made his way to Thornbury Castle. The guards within Hatfield were also alerted, posting themselves at all entrances of the castle. Groups of five were dispersed at each door as well as within the castle. Several rushed to the princess' side as they protected the king's child from harm.

Grace rushed Mary and Elizabeth into her rooms, throwing open her trunks and pulling out plain garments that could be used a disguises. Cloaks were also revealed, worn, but of good quality. She threw the arguments at Mary and began to change into her own clothes. Instead of wearing a dress, she slipped on a pair of breeches and a white shirt. Mary gasped at her choice of clothing, but Grace ignored her. They had more important things to worry about. Grace didn't have anything for Elizabeth, but it wouldn't matter. She ripped one of the cloaks to fit her and as it covered most of her body, it did not matter.

Quietly, the girls exited Grace's chambers, Grace ordering the guards to follow them. She could hear fighting at one of the doors which made her hurry all the more. The goal was to leave Hatfield without being noticed, but at this point, Grace was unsure. After all, assassins were more trained then the guards placed at Hatfield and with eight of them in the castle, it didn't matter how many guards they were. Most, if not all of them would be killed.

Fortunately, Grace was able to make it to the stables, a few pages waiting for her there. Several horses had been saddled, but remained in their stalls so as not to arise suspicion. Grace spoke to them, sending one to Thornbury, another to Warwick castle, and a few others in opposite directions to attract the attention of the assassins. Of course, it would only be to keep them off track and to send them in several directions.

Grace mounted her horse, placing Elizabeth in front of her while Mary mounted her own steed. Mary was nervous, visibly shaking as she took the reins in her hands. Grace tried to send her a look of encouragement, but it did nothing to calm her. However, Grace herself was also anxious, holding Elizabeth tightly to her bosom. The child had no idea what was going on and Grace did everything to prevent her from crying. The guards and pages also mounted their horses, surrounding Grace and Mary as a few brave grooms readied themselves to create a diversion.

Two assassins were at the gate, swords at the ready. Grace nodded her head at the grooms and they rushed into the courtyard, surprising the men on guard. Grace, Mary, the guards and the pages all spurred their horses into action. The men let out loud shouts alerting the others inside the castle, but it was too late. The horses knocked over the two assassins at the gate and different groups went in separate directions. Two guards rode with Mary and Grace while the other traveled in groups of two or three. Grace prayed the plan would work, but she was unsure. She didn't know how many assassins there were and she was not sure if they would be followed or not. All she did know that was she needed to get Mary and Elizabeth to Thornbury Castle as soon as possible.

* * *

 _ **Road to Thornbury Castle**_

More and Warwick were on the way to Thornbury Castle, having just finished their reports of the some of the monasteries. Of course, they hid their true purpose when visiting. They had been shocked to find that Mr. Cromwell was right in that some of the monasteries were corrupt and had degraded themselves. However, a few of them held good reports and More would be sure to alert his majesty of this discovery.

It was then that they saw a figure rushing down the road, as if Hell itself were coming after him. "My lords," he yelled. The guards around More and Warwick held their swords up in protection, but Warwick waved them down.

"My lords," the man shouted again. He halted in front of them, breathing heavily. Warwick recognized the symbol on his livery immediately, his eyes widening. The Tudor rose stared back at him, taunting him, and his face turned white.

"What is it boy? Speak!" Warwick shouted at the man. The man cringed in fear, and spoke to Warwick.

"Hatfield was attacked my lord, by unknown men. We know not who they are and where they came from, but they were sent to Hatfield to kill either the Princess or Lady Mary, that much is certain. Lady Grace sent me this way to tell you and Sir Thomas More on these happenings. I fear she may still be in danger." Warwick's blood turned cold. He never thought in a million years that assassins would be in England, but here they were now, and his daughter was at the center of it all.

More held the same countenance, realizing that his family seemed to always be at the mouth of danger. Instead of speaking or waiting, he kicks his horse forward and heads to Thornbury. Warwick follows, knowing that all they could do was hurry and pray that all would be well when they arrived.

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 15 August**_

Thornbury had been confiscated from the Staffords after the execution of the Duke of Buckingham in 1521 and since then, Henry had used the manor house for himself and his court, enjoying its many gardens and extensive hunting grounds. It was there that the court would be housed for the next week or so. Anne and Henry were currently not on speaking terms, putting up a front for the court while they refused to be in the same vicinity of each other for too long in private.

Henry sat in his study, going over the various documents concerning the reformation that Cromwell had placed in front of him to look over and sign. Cromwell and several secretaries were also in the room, attending to both powerful men's needs. It was then that a man burst into the king's chambers. His figure was disheveled, his clothing covered in dirt and spotted with blood. He fell to the floor gasping for breath.

"Majesty," the man spoke through a raspy voice. The guards who held watch at the king door had let the man in and tried to help him rise to his feet.

The king was alarmed, rising to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed, concerned for the man.

"Majesty, the man demanded to see you immediately. He said it was urgent, that it pertained to the safety of your realm," one of the guards spoke.

The poor man was lifted from the ground, the guards holding him as his body shook from fear. His face was bloody, his nose having been broken. The skin around his eye was a dark purple and his lip was split. This explained the dry blood on his face and clothing. "Majesty," he spoke again, "We were attacked. The men…" he stopped to catch his breath. "They came out of nowhere."

The king came to stand directly in front of the man. "What men? What are you talking about?" he questioned the man.

"Majesty," Cromwell spoke, "Look at his livery." Henry pushed aside the man's cloak, revealing the Tudor emblem on his uniform. Henry froze. Only him, Anne, and Elizabeth had servants with such symbols on their clothing.

"What has happened?" Henry shouted. "Spit it out man!"

"Assassins at Hatfield," the poor man said exhausted. "I am a page from Hatfield majesty. We were attacked. Lady Neville sent me to you."

Henry fell to his knees in front of the man, grasping his clothes tightly. "What of my Elizabeth? Mary? Grace?" he spoke desperately, wanting to know their fate.

"They escaped majesty. We all made sure that they were the first out of the gates. I know not where they are, but I do know that Lady Neville sent many of us in different directions to distract the assassins. Unfortunately, I had an encounter with one of them. I was lucky to survive majesty. One of the guards heard my call for help and had traveled in the same direction as I. He saved my life," the man spoke.

"Cromwell," Henry said, "I want more men on the ramparts immediately. Send out soldiers to look for my daughters and I want you to talk to all of the ambassadors immediately. If it was any of their masters that concocted such a plan, we may be at war." Cromwell nodded his head, heading for the door. "One more thing Cromwell. Do not tell the queen. We shall keep this between us." Henry turns his back to Cromwell, staring out the window as his eyes begin to water. He cannot lose his precious daughters. His life would be lost without them. As for Grace, he does not know how to feel. He loved her and as her life was in just as much danger as his daughters', he prayed to God that she would not be taken from him as well. "I will not rest until they are found, do you understand? And if you fail, there will be many consequences." Cromwell inaudibly gulps at the king's words, but nods his head, running towards the direction of the barracks which housed the soldiers. He would deal with the ambassadors later.

Suddenly, commotion can be heard out in the hall. The courtiers mingling amongst themselves were pressed up against the windows of the castle, letting out gasps of horror. Henry rushed out, heading towards the walls of the castle, his guards trailing behind him. He glimpses out of the window for a moment, seeing the guards line up on the walls. Several archers lined up behind them, alerting him of the imminent danger. It makes him rush even quicker to see what had caused such protection.

Henry's heart drops out of chest when he sees Cromwell already present on the ramparts. His eyes hold a look of despair in them and Henry looks out on the grounds before the castle to see what had caused such distress. He can see men mounted on large war horses circling the walls, holding their weapons threateningly as they search for what remains hidden to their eyes and to Henry's. His eyes try to focus on the tree line and finally, he spots two figures on horses that fill him with relief. Mary and Grace sit on their horses in front of the castle, trying to find a way inside. Henry is filled with dread as much as he is filled with relief, knowing that their fate now rested with God.

Grace and Mary arrived at Thornbury absolutely exhausted from their journey over the past couple of days. Their appearances were bedraggled and dark circles were under their eyes. The guards that had escorted them had been killed by the assassins, Mary and Grace escaping within an inch of their lives. They had been able to hide themselves for quite some time, heading into the forest and walking on foot for about a day. They had only rested for a few hours, Grace staying awake while Mary and Elizabeth slept. She was too scared to sleep for fear the assassin would find them.

* * *

Sitting there on their horses, Grace feared they would be unable to make it inside the castle. One of her father's many swords was attached to her side while her bow and arrows were carried in a satchel on her back. Elizabeth sat in Grace's lap, asleep in her arms, unaware of the threat that surrounded them. Grace watched the assassins closely, following their pattern intently as she tried to devise a plan to evade the clutches of the assassins.

"Mary," Grace spoke, "You ride beside me, a couple of paces behind me, and when I tell you to, you, you must swing onto the side of the horse and hold yourself there. If they just see me, they will focus on me. I will distract them as long as I can." Mary nods, her eyes streaked with tears as she cries from fear. "Here, take Elizabeth. You must tie her to you securely so you do not lose her." Grace hands Elizabeth to Mary, making sure Mary tightly ties the rope around Elizabeth and herself. "No matter what happens to me, you keep going." Grace reaches for her friend's hand, squeezing it gently in encouragement. Mary reaches over, encompassing Grace in her hug and crying into her shoulder.

"Please, be careful," Mary urges her friend. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Mary, I'm not leaving you. I promise." The two women's foreheads press together in a sisterly manner. Mary nods at her, wiping her eyes and pulling away from Grace. Both women pull their hoods around their heads. "Ready?" Grace questions. Mary nods her head, waiting for Grace's move.

Grace kicks her horse into a gallop, Mary doing the same as they hurry across the field and towards the castle. The assassins notice their movement, targeting their prey and rushing towards them. Grace expertly grabs her bow and an arrow from her back, shooting one of the men in the chest while another is killed instantly when she draws another arrow and hits between his eyes. However, she underestimates the men and one of them had the luck of striking her in the leg with his own arrow.

Henry watches the scene tensely, letting out a yell when he sees the women make a mad rush for the castle. He immediately orders the captain of the guard into action, but his archers are unable to shoot at the assassins as they are out of range. It is too late to send soldiers out onto the field for the horses are not saddled nor would the men be able to reach them on foot. "Well do something!" he yells. "I have half a mind to go out there myself." Cromwell sends an exasperated look towards the king. Henry grips the wall of the castle, the skin breaking from his painful hold on the wall.

Grace gasps in pain, dropping her bow and clutching her leg in pain. She turns in the saddle and makes eye contact with Mary. "Now!" Grace shouts and Mary slides sideways on her horse, holding onto the saddle with all her might as she moves to the left side of her horse and spurs the horse onwards. Grace looks back towards the assassins, seeing that one had moved behind her to make a move on Mary. Painfully, Grace pulls a dagger from her boot and throws it at the man, the knife lodging in his throat. His blood sprays on her face and she lets out a sound of disgust. She can barely stay on her own horse now and prays that her life will end quickly as the men close in on her.

However, the archers on the tower walls are now able to shoot at the assassins as they are within range and they do so skillfully. The assassins, realizing their loss of luck, withdraw from their attack, letting out yells of frustration as their mission had failed.

Henry mutters to himself, praying to God under his breath as he watches Mary ride through the castle gates, Grace following behind. He descends the stairs of the ramparts, hurrying down the steps into the courtyard and rushing towards his children.

Grace can see the castle gates, and she clutches her saddle desperately as she finally rides into the courtyard. She falls from her horse, yelling in agony as she hits her wound. Mary dismounts from her horse, Elizabeth in her arms as she drops to Grace's side. Unfortunately, Mary's horse is quite frightened from all the men rushing at it and begins to buck, preventing the men from reaching the women.

"Grace," Mary speaks, assessing the damage done to her friend. She reaches for the arrow, but Grace halts her.

"No," Grace mutters, pushing Mary's hands away. "It's poisoned," she relays, "Don't touch it." Grace is speaking through clenched teeth at this point, the pain from the poison too much for her. She knew immediately as soon as it had pierced her skin. It was in her bloodstream now and it was only a matter of time before it would kill her. "Mary, look at me," Grace speaks, trying to divert Mary's attention from her wound. She begins to cough and grabs her friend's hand, though it is covered in blood. "Remember that you are a Princess of England. You are your father's daughter. Both of you are." Mary starts to bawl at her friend's words.

"No, Grace! No! You can't leave me!" Mary exclaims. The commotion wakes Elizabeth who wails at seeing Grace lying on the ground. She does not understand at all.

"Shhhh," Grace whispers to Elizabeth. 'Do not cry my darling." She tries to smile at Elizabeth, but a jolt of pain racks through her body and she starts to moan from her suffering.

At last, some grooms are able to get the chaotic horse under control. Henry and Cromwell race to the girls, Henry falling to his knees in front of Grace. She lets out a sound of pain and Henry cringes at the noise, disliking the way it stabbed at his heart. He lets no emotion sow on his face. "Cromwell," he says, "Fetch Dr. Butts, take the Princess to her mother, and make some arrangements for Lady Mary's stay here. You are not to tell the queen what has happened. I will do so." Cromwell nods, helping Mary rise to her feet and taking Elizabeth from her arms. He tries to guide Mary into the castle, but she struggles against him. Cromwell literally has to drag her inside though she protests. "Mary, go," Henry speaks with an ordering, but fatherly tone. Mary finally stops resisting, allowing Cromwell to take her inside.

Henry turns his attention to Grace, reaching for her head and shoulders as he pulls her into his lap. "Grace," he speaks. He pushes her stray hair out of her face and can see how much agony she is in. Her forehead creases as another wave of pain wracks through her body. Her whole body tenses and she feels as if she is going to retch. Henry feels broken at such a sight, not knowing what to do. He sees the arrow embedded in her skin and he goes to reach for it, but Grace stops him.

"No," Grace whispers. She can barely talk at this point. "It's…"she begins to cough, unable to finish her sentence for a moment. "Poison," she whispers.

Henry cares not and breaks off the tail of the arrow. "It is the tip that is poisoned. I will be fine." He gathers Grace in his arms gently, careful not to bother the wound. "It's you who needs aid, not me my darling." He presses a kiss to her forehead and he rises with Grace in his arms, carrying her towards the castle. She is practically weightless as he carries her, her small frame looking shrunken in his arms.

The guards follow Henry, making a path as he moves in the castle toward the Warwick chambers. His courtiers all gasp at the sight of an almost lifeless Grace in his arms, but he ignores their presence. He panics as he sees the color begin to fade from Grace's face, picking up the pace as he rounds one of corners. He bursts into the Warwick quarters unannounced, startling all of Grace's brothers who are present at court while their uncle and father attend to the will of the king. They see their sister, scrambling to the king's side and taking her from his arms. Richard takes her to his personal rooms, lying her on the bed. "What has happened?" he questions, running his hands over his sister's leg. John and Christian exchange looks of unease, their sister having put her life in danger.

"Assassins at Hatfield," Henry responds, letting the informality slide. Grace's life was in jeopardy after all and that's all that mattered at this point. His daughters were safe, but at the cost of Grace's life it seemed. Grace groans again, catching the attention of the four men. Henry's hands run through his hair as he begins to pace at the foot of the bed in frustration. He grits his teeth every time Grace makes a noise of pain. He curses internally, wondering where the hell Butts is.

Suddenly, the doctor appears and is out of breath as he enters the room. "Majesty," Dr. Butts speaks. He carries his bag of instruments at his side and a feeling of desolation rushes over Henry. He can only imagine the amount of blood Grace will lose, not to mention if the poison had completely entered her bloodstream. He feels sickly and looks away as Butts approaches Grace. His face turns green as thinks of such things.

Butts analyzes the girl, shaking his head at the arrow in her leg. The tail has already been broken off, he just needed to remove the arrow itself. He reaches inside his bag, pulling out a clamp and using it to pull the arrow out of Grace's leg. She begins to struggle and he urges her brothers to hold her down. The arrow is lodged deep within the flesh and fortunately, did not strike any bone. However, the arrow had torn open some tissue and would cause infection if not taken out immediately. Butts pulled the arrow out in one swift move, Grace letting out a scream as he removed the arrow from her leg. She passes out from the pain which relieves her brothers. Watching her squirm under such circumstances made them most uncomfortable and they all wished they could switch places with her.

Henry's head jerks towards Grace. He was unable to watch Dr. Butts pull out the arrow, but her scream attracted his attention. He saw her leg, blood pouring out of the wound. Butts goes to place a cloth over it, turning to Richard and urging him to keep pressure on the wound. "Majesty," Butts says, "Perhaps we should go in the other room to talk." Henry nods, slowly leaving the room. He hated to leave Grace, especially since she was lying their unconscious. She looked so fragile, so delicate. He feared her life was slipping away, but he was sure she was strong enough to fight through it.

Henry turns to Butts, awaiting his verdict. "Majesty, as you saw I have removed the arrow and once the Warwick brothers have helped their sister into more proper clothing, I will try and treat her wound as best as I can. But, I fear we may lose her. There is little I can do without knowing what poison was used to coat the arrowhead," Butt speaks. He looks genuinely upset, but it is the truth. Rarely did anyone survive an attack by poison. Few cures were known and if a person was not given an anecdote in time, if there was one, they would die soon enough. "Perhaps God will hear our prayers," he finishes.

"Prayers," the king speaks, chuckling through gritted teeth. "You're telling me that you are incapable of saving her life?" Henry approached Butts, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "I don't care what you do! You save her life!" Henry shouts angrily at Dr. Butts. "Are you too incompetent to do your job? You are my physician. Obviously, I need to replace you with someone who understands the conditions of their job and knows what to do when the king's life is in his hands or any life for that matter." Henry releases his grip on the man, stalking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

The Neville brothers had all heard the king, exchanging anxious glances when Dr. Butts walked into the room. "Gentlemen," he says, "We must try all we can do to save the life of this child." They all shake their heads in agreeance.

"Anything you can think of, you do it," Richard responds, giving the doctor permission to do anything he can to save his sister. Dr. Butts begins his work, hoping that his efforts would succeed in the end.

Henry had returned to his study, absolutely seething at this point. No one said anything as he passed, the courtiers only bowing or curtsying in respect. They feared if they said something that he would snap at them. Cromwell was going to try and speak to him, but thought otherwise when he saw the expression on the king's face. When he entered his office, Henry dismissed all the pages within his chambers. He was fuming within and to let out his distress, he let out a yell, knocking all of his papers off his desk. The documents and other items fell onto the floor. He let them lay there, not bothering to pick them up.

Henry began to pace around his study, stopping in front of the fireplace. He placed his hands on the mantel, baring his weight in his hands. His head hung low as he stared into the fire, licking his lips. He stood like that for hours, waiting, praying. He wouldn't let anyone in his rooms, not Cromwell, not Boleyn, not Anne. Not even More could convince Henry to let him in his chambers. Henry was numb to the world. He let his thoughts consume him and only thoughts of Grace entered his mind. Hours passed by, a day passed by, and Grace was still in danger. But still, Henry prayed, he hoped, and hope was what he needed most.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Next chapter is up! Hello to my current and new favs/followers: LenaMiaH and WideAwake94. And thank you to all my guests who continue to review!**

* * *

 **Ch. 16**

 _ **God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.**_

 _ **~Voltaire**_ _ **  
**_ _ **It is hard to contend against one's heart's desire; for whatever it wishes to have it buys at the cost of soul.**_

 _ **~Heraclitus**_

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 25 August 1535**_ _ **  
**_Ten days. It had been ten days since Grace had saved both Mary and Elizabeth from assassins. It had been ten days since Grace had been fully conscious. It had been ten days since the king had dealt with matters having to do with the welfare of England. Needless to say, court life had practically halted at Thornbury as Henry waited for news of Grace. He sat in his study for hours, pacing, staring into the fire, praying, anything to keep his mind off of her.

No one was allowed in his chambers. Cromwell had attempted to discuss the process of his reformation, but he could not concentrate for too long. He would tell Cromwell to continue with his work, his thoughts straying towards Grace. Cromwell would bring the documents to his own office, working for hours on his reports and bills which would brought to the king when finished. Of course, Cromwell's plan was halted until the king decided to participate fully in government once more. Additionally, Mary had been sent back to Hatfield with an army fit for a king. Henry would take no chances with his daughter's safety, but with Anne at court, he wanted to avoid conflict between the two.

Anne had also attempted to enter his chambers. Henry indulged her, answering her question as to why Elizabeth was at court and why Lady Mary had arrived with her. She also asked why no one would tell her anything, not even her father. Henry responded with, "Madam, there are certain events that have transpired to which I wanted to tell you and not your father, nor anyone else for that matter."

"And why is that?" Anne questioned, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him. She studied him, wondering as to why her husband had dark circles under his eyes and his disheveled appearance. He had not shaved for days and he wore no jacket over his shirt. Her feisty expression turned to one of concern. "What happened?" she pushed.

"Assassins were sent to Hatfield. Cromwell is still investigating it." Henry watched as Anne's face turned white. He reached for his hand, holding it in his. He had felt what she was feeling at that moment and he sympathized with her. It was his daughter after all. "There's no need to worry. Elizabeth is fine. You've seen her. You know this."

"But…But how?" Anne responded. "I don't understand."

"Francis could have sent them. Maybe Charles. I'm not sure yet. Cromwell believes that it may have been caused by some unknown party to cause problems with our neighbors." Henry rubs his hand against his face, frustrated with how the investigation was going. No leads had turned up at all. Anne just stood there, absorbing all this information. Henry continued, "You should give your thanks to Lady Neville."

"Why?" Anne asked angrily. "Why would I thank someone you're infatuated with?"

"Because she's the reason our daughter is alive," Henry retorted, irritated with her attitude. "Perhaps you should be more grateful for she is lying on her deathbed as we speak." Anne looks ashamed at her burst of anger, biting her tongue as Henry glares at her. "Now leave," he says as he motions towards the door. Anne turns on her heel swiftly, aggressively walking out of his chambers and into the main part of the castle.

The courtiers all notice Anne's angry walk, bowing and curtsying as she passes. They all know the condition Grace is in and wonder if that was what the king and queen had argued about. He had barely shown his face over the past ten days. They were already supposed to be at Acton Court by now, but until Grace recovered, it seemed the summer progress was halted.

* * *

"Which one of you did it?" Anne demanded as she entered the Howard rooms. Her uncle Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk, and her father both sat next to the fireplace, the hounds at their feet.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Boleyn spoke.

"Which one of you tried to kill Grace Neville?" Anne questioned, a fiery look in her eyes.

"Have you gone mad!" Howard exclaims, rising from his position in front of the fire. "We wouldn't dare do such a thing. And now you come in here accusing me of such madness, your father of such insanity."

"What am I to think?" Anne speaks. "My daughter's life is threatened, Lady Mary is now at court, and Lady Neville is dying from poison. What else am I to think?"

"Perhaps you should focus on giving the king an heir," Howard says. "That way, our place will be secured at court." Anne sends her uncle a cold look, but he ignores it. "Set aside your politics and focus on opening your legs for the king. That's all you should be worrying about now." Howard sips from his chalice, giving his niece a blank look. He betrays nothing to her, instead looking at her as if his words were not hurtful and insulting.

"Do not ever speak to me like that again. I am the queen of England and you will treat me as such." Anne possesses a hostile tone as she speaks, tired of her uncle and father dictating her every move. She sends them both a venomous glare before leaving as quickly as she arrived.

* * *

 _ **Kimbolton Castle 26 August 1535**_

Catherine of Aragon had resided in Kimbolton Castle since her removal from the More. She was horrified at Bishop Fisher's execution, but was pleased that Henry had halted in the execution of More. She knew it had all to do with Anne Boleyn, the woman who replaced her. However, Catherine knew that she was the recognized Queen of England as her nephew and Francis both refused to negotiate with Henry at the moment. Charles demanded the removal of Anne and return of Catherine whilst Francis continued to try and bully Henry by refusing the marriage of Elizabeth to the Duke of Angouleme, instead offering a match between the Dauphin and Lady Mary. Catherine was pleased, but she knew such things would not help her now. Her household had been reduced, only Lady Elizabeth Darrell remaining to serve her. She had confined to herself to one room, only leaving to say Mass. Catherine stopped wearing what remained of her fine clothing and chose to wear the hair shirt of the Order of St. Francis. Lady Elizabeth could barely get her to eat as she fasted regularly, much to her dismay.

The only thing that bothered Lady Darrell was Catherine's separation from her daughter. Henry had refused to allow the women to send letters to each other, though some were secretly smuggled to Catherine and others to Mary by the Warwick brothers. No one suspected them as their sister was in favor with the king. Catherine had heard of her great deed from Ambassador Chapuys and was grateful that she had saved her daughter from harm. She had sent a letter to Henry requesting to see Mary, but the letter had remained unopened and unanswered while Henry continued in his downcast mood.

Catherine was aware of her husband's current infatuation with Grace Neville, though she was sure it wasn't just lust at this point. Chapuys reported to her regularly the progression of their courtship, stating how Grace knew of the king's affections, but ignored them, then she started to accept them, and finally, how she refused them and demanded an end to whatever relationship her and the king had. Chapuys deeply respected Grace, Catherine could sense that in the letters he sent her. After all, Grace displayed her loyalty to Catherine, but still served Anne. She was the object of desire for Henry and she refused him. Anne had earned her spot wrongfully in Catherine's eyes while Grace was now caught in the crossfire between Anne and Catherine. Even if Grace had accepted the king's affections and became his mistress, Catherine would not resent her actions. Instead, she would embrace them for a step away from Anne was better than nothing at all. However, Grace would not speak ill against Anne for she was not like that at all. She would not raise herself above others to displace them. She differed from Anne in that and Catherine admired her for it. She admired her for many things, one of them being that she still acknowledged Mary and remained her friend throughout all trials. She would not abandon her as others had.

Catherine sat in her room on that rainy summer day, writing a letter to the Pope. She wrote 'if a remedy not be applied shortly, there will be no end to ruined souls and martyred saints. The good will be firm and suffer. The lukewarm will fail if they find none to help them.' She was referring to the execution of Fisher and the near execution of More as well as the execution of the Carthusian Monks. She sealed her letter, Lady Elizabeth pouring the hot wax over the letter. The red wax dripped onto the table, though it did not bother Catherine. She pressed her seal into the substance and let it dry before handing the letter to Elizabeth. She knew what to do. She would wait for Chapuys to arrive and would give the letter secretly to the ambassador who would then take it to the Pope. Catherine shook her head at the never-ending carnage of England and hoped that Henry would stop with this barbarism soon. She believed he would as More had been saved and was now carrying out reports of the monasteries. If More could regain the love of a king she was sure Henry would soon stop his reformation and become the true Catholic prince he once was.

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 28 August 1535**_

"How is she?" Henry spoke while him, Warwick, and More sat in the confines of the Warwick chambers discussing their recent survey of the religious houses. More had relayed to him that not all of the monasteries were in poor conditions, though a significant number of them were. Those houses were put under the jurisdiction of the crown, but as for the ones with good reports, More thought he should tell the king before acting.

"She still sleeps. She only wakes up for a few minutes before returning back to her slumber. I fear she is weakening," Warwick speaks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "She acts as if she has no idea where she is. She won't eat for she does not stay awake for too long. She has a fever constantly." He shakes his head. He had been unable to sleep for the past week due to his daughter's condition. Him and his sons had all taken turns watching over Grace, but it seemed him and More had the most shifts, unwilling to leave her alone for too long. Warwick's other sons were either resting in their rooms or were watching Grace at the moment. Arthur had been brought to court and was currently with Grace in her chambers. Christian had returned to Warwick Castle to see his children as well as to bring his wife back to court with him. She would help care for Grace in her condition.

Henry is quite distraught with Warwick's answer, his eyes glancing towards the doors of Grace's chamber. He licks his lips nervously, his tongue running over the chapped skin again. It had become a habit as of late. He appeared jittery to More, on edge. They were not the only one's affected by Grace's injury, showing that the king cared for Grace much more than he thought. He watched Henry intently, instantly noticing when his eyes drifted to the direction of Grace. Henry turned back once more, noticing that More had caught him in the act. He didn't look embarrassed, instead looking away from More's stare so he couldn't see the curious glint in his eye. That was a conversation for another time, but More thought otherwise.

"Harry," More spoke, using Henry's nickname. Warwick's attention immediately went to his brother-in-law, wondering what he was about to say. Henry turned towards his friend, waiting for him to speak. "I think Richard and I would both like to know the intentions you have towards my niece." Henry had dreaded the day that Thomas would say such things, but he couldn't avoid it now. He gripped the arms of his chair tightly, not meeting either man's gaze.

"Thomas, all you need to know is that I hold her in high regards and that I respect her much more above others who would think otherwise. I have no ill intentions for Grace. I never have and I never will. If you are worried that I see her as a mistress, I do not. She is much more than some simple fancy. Does that answer your question?" Henry speaks. He still refuses to look at either man, staring into the fire. Warwick feels his fatherly instincts kicking in, wanting More to further his questioning.

"Partially," More responds. Henry chuckles at his friend, relaxing in his chair for a moment. However, More pushes on. "You could ruin her prospects, her reputation if you continue as you are."

Henry's jaw tenses and he finally turns his gaze on More, his sharp eyes glaring into More's gentle ones. "I value Grace's reputation far more than you think. I would watch what you say Thomas. You can only say so much before you cross the line asking about by personal life."

"Your personal life? Harry your life is anything but personal. You have no privacy. You're the king of England for God's sake," More says.

Henry sighs. "How I wish you were wrong," he states, surprising More and Warwick. "If I were not king, as Grace has told me, perhaps I could have her. But your niece's stubbornness and her loyalty to one of the women in my life has prevented her from doing such." He turns to Warwick with his next statement. "I know what rumors are spread around my court. I know what they say about your Grace, but trust me when I say this. When your daughter wakes up I will do everything in my power to have her and keep her by my side. They all think this is a game, all of them." He's referring to the courtiers now. He chuckles. "How wrong they are."

"That is my daughter you are speaking of and if you think I will let you parade her around like some concubine you are surely mistaken," Warwick states. His eyes darken and his voice deepens as he addresses the king, More readying himself to interfere if need be.

"Apparently I already have one," Henry retorts, referring to the title which had been bestowed upon Anne. "Grace is anything but," Henry continues. "I would never treat her as such. She knows that."

"And how would you treat her?" Warwick questions angrily. He knows he is crossing the line, no formalities present, but this was his daughter, his Grace. He had to know what the king thought of her.

"Like the queen she was meant to be." The statement alone elicits silence in the room, only the sound of the fire cackling is heard. Henry rises from his chair, patting his clothes down and looking at both men. "Now, I think I should return to my quarters to discuss matters with Cromwell. Warwick does nothing, in shock that the king had said such a thing.

More merely nods, muttering a simple "Majesty." Henry turns to leave and both men rise to their feet to bow as he leaves. They say nothing to each other, but simply return to their seats, processing what the king had just said. Neither of them realized Arthur had heard the whole thing. Now he truly understood what was at stake. He looked at sister, frowning at her frail and weak body. He hoped she would recover, for all of their sakes.

* * *

 _ **1 September 1535**_

The clock chimes in Henry's chambers as he stares into the fire. He looks better than he did a few days before. He had shaved, cleaned up his appearance, and had begun to concern himself with state matters. He still had not moved from Thornbury Castle, for fear that Grace's health would continue to deteriorate. He was on speaking terms with Anne again, spending time together with their daughter.

Boleyn, Archbishop Cranmer, and Cromwell enter the king's chambers, but Henry remains in his seat, continuing to look into the fire. "Your majesty," a page said, alerting he king of his company. He turns slightly in his chair, his gaze falling on all three men.

"Gentlemen," Henry speaks, addressing his closest advisors.

"Your Majesty," all three say, bowing in respect to the king. In his hands, Cranmer holds a large book, attracting the king's attention.

"What's this?" Henry questions, curious as to what contents were written within the book and as to what exactly the book concerned. Judging by the fact that Cranmer was present, he guessed that it dealt with the survey of finances of the Church of England.

"The Valor Ecclesiasticus," Cranmer responds. "The results of the investigations into the wealth and practices of all the religious houses in your majesty's kingdom." Henry rises from his chair, walking to the table on which Cranmer placed the book. He opens it, scanning over its contents.

Cromwell continues, "It lists the treasures, the wealth, the vast private lands of the monasteries, priories and other religious establishments." He comes to stand directly next to the king while Cranmer stands on his right side.

Cranmer begins to finger through the pages, stopping on particular pages to show the king what he means. "It as well lists the innumerable cases of laxity corruption, evil practice, and fraud which have flourished unchecked and in some cases for hundreds of years in these same institutions."

The king turns to Boleyn, waiting for his input. Boleyn purses his lips and makes eye contact with the king. He approaches him and begins to speak. "Meanwhile, majesty, your own treasury is much depleted," he relays. "Is it not a thing to marvel at? The richness of those who ought, by right, to be your subjects, and the poverty and debt of the English Crown?" he questions. The king sighs deeply.

"It is indeed," the king says, agreeing with Boleyn, Cromwell, and Cranmer. He shuts the book, walking towards his chair and leaning on the back of it. "But tell me gentlemen, is it not also true that some of these religious houses put their wealth to good use? That they give money to charitable cases and accumulate money for such things? Their wealth may lie in their golden crosses and rich tapestries, but tell me, how will taking from these religious house with good reports accomplish anything? Some might say that I'm robbing them." All three men were taken aback by his response, Boleyn's eyes narrowing. "How is it that More and Warwick have given me different reports? They of course have said as you all have that some of the monasteries are corrupt, but they also say that some of these houses have good reports, that there is no reason to take their wealth from them."

"Majesty," Cromwell spoke, "perhaps it would be warranted for us to continue the scope of our visitations of the monasteries to conduct more thorough searches of the monasteries." He instantly became nervous at the king's answer, looking to his companions in question. He had no clue what to say, but he thought that appeasing the king would be better than disagreeing with him. Boleyn and Cromwell stays quiet, Boleyn showing a rather dissatisfied look while Cranmer looked upset, worrying that the work they had all done would be for nothing.

"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Cromwell," Henry mutters. "You should do that and exactly that. I expect a full report by the beginning of next year to continue our reformation." He waves the men away, returning to his chair. The men leave, paying their respects to the king as they exit the room.

"I fear his majesty is being influenced by unworthy men," Boleyn grits through his teeth. Cromwell nods while Cranmer remains silent. "There should be something done about that," he continues.

"I would wait my lord. More is not truly involved in court life. The only reason he is here is because of Warwick. It would be best not to act, especially since Lady Neville is in the condition that she is," Cromwell retorts. Boleyn says nothing, instead pushing past Cromwell and heading to some unknown destination. Cranmer and Cromwell exchange a wary look, both knowing what Boleyn was capable of.

* * *

 _ **4 September 1535**_

Though Grace remained in her fragile condition, court seemed to continue without in the respect that Anne would not stop her entertaining the lords and ladies present. She had decided to hold a small gathering in her room, much to the satisfaction of her brother and father. Several courtiers were there, laughing among themselves and drinking plenty of wine.

George enters his sister's chambers, having just argued with their father over his sister's behavior. He is surprised to see that many people are present in her quarters, all of them laughing and letting out shouts of joy as they dance around the room. Anne stands up on a chair in the middle of the room, a wine chalice in her hair. She wears a seductive red dress which has short sleeves, much unlike her regular French style dresses. It is decorated in rubies which befits her status as queen. She climbs down from the chair and heads towards her brother. "Is this not better George?" she questions her brother.

George chuckles. "Much better," he says, pleased with her change of attitude. She presses a kiss to his cheek. Over his sister's head, he makes eye contact with Thomas Wyatt, a man who once tried to court his sister. He stares at Anne longingly.

"Will you dance my Lord?" Anne asks.

"No, not now," George responds as he heads towards the direction of Thomas. He stands directly next to him. "All this time, and you're still in love with her?" he speaks to Wyatt. They watch Anne as she dances happily among her subjects.

"You're wrong my lord," Wyatt answers, his eyes narrowing at Anne as he remembers their time together. "My love was spent and sprung a long time ago." George sends Wyatt a look of disbelief, not believing him at all.

Meanwhile, Anne dances with an unknown courtier. As he stares into her eyes, a shiver runs down her spine. She suddenly feels unsafe with this man and he stalks away from her. The feeling of fear is gone as quickly as she felt it, and she turns to another courtier who lifts her up in his arms.

The music stops randomly, the door to Anne's chambers opening and revealing the king. He looks disheveled and angry as he drinks from his wine chalice. The man who was dancing with Anne places her back on the ground. Echoes of "majesty" are heard throughout the room and Anne eyes the king warily. He's drunk, that much is known. His worry over Grace had sent him to rock-bottom and he was drowning his emotions in wine. But it didn't matter to Anne. All that mattered was that he was there in her rooms.

Henry continues to circle around the room, all eyes on him as they wait for him to speak. "Mark," he says, stalking towards the musician. He whispers so only Mark can hear. "Play a volta." He takes another sip of wine, throwing the cup across the floor. It clinks as it hits the hard wood, but no one moves. He goes to stand in front of Anne who sends him a seductive look, a slight smirk on her face.

Mark begins to play a melody on the violin. Henry stands in the center of the room while Anne dances around him. He bows, she curtsies, and he holds out his hand for her to take. She takes it, but surprises him by kissing it dramatically. His eyes are on her and only her. She dances around him again before standing in front of him and putting her hands on his face so that she touches him sensuously. She doesn't kiss him, but entices him. Henry puts his hands on her waist, the first contact they make for the dance. He lifts her into his arms before placing her back down. Their hands are held together as they spin in a circle. Henry spins Anne back into him, raising her hands above her head before rubbing his hands down her body and over her breasts. She gasps and he lifts her back into the air, spinning around while he carries her bridal style in his arms. He places back down on the ground, her hand coming around her head as she adds some of her flare to the dance. She comes to s spot on the floor before running back towards him and jumping so he can catch her.

Henry puts his hands on Anne's waist once more, lifting her into the air. Anne wraps her legs around him as he spins again, throwing her head back dramatically and pushing her chest up so that he sees her cleavage. Again, Henry stops and places her back on her feet before dipping her in his arms. He pulls her back to him, both breathing heavily as they look into each other's eyes. Anne can tell that he wants her and it makes her extremely happy.

"Leave us," Henry speaks loudly, a husky edge to his voice. The courtiers scatter immediately, practically running out of the room. They can all feel the sexual tension in the room and want to exit as soon as possible. As soon as they leave, Henry pulls Anne to him, crashing his lips against her. He pushes her towards her bed, throwing her onto it aggressively and climbing on top of her. He rips off the top half of her dress, leaving her in her corset, and hikes up her dress, his hands running up her thighs as he presses his lips to hers once more. Anne rolls them over, ripping off his shirt and smacking him aggressively on his face. The move not only angers him, but excites him and he hardens under his wife. He rolls them back over so he is on top of her, taking off his ripped shirt and laying back down between her legs. He tries to hold her hands down, but she resists. He goes to untie his breeches and tries to enter her, but she prevents it. She fights against him, scratching him on his back.

Henry screams in pain, giving Anne the opportunity to climb on top of him again. She spreads her legs, grabbing his member and placing herself on him. She begins to ride him, holding her hand around his throat. Both moan in pleasure, but soon enough, Henry tries to exert his dominance and grabs at her corset, trying to tear the clothing off so he can see her breasts. She fights against him again, putting her hands around his wrists and placing them behind his head. As she begins to bounce up and down faster and faster, Henry is overwhelmed by bliss and stops trying to control her. He attempts one more time to grab her, but his try is in vain. He lets her ride her, screaming out as he reaches his orgasm.

Anne collapses on the bed next to Henry, both of their hearts racing from their lovemaking as they try to catch their breaths. She rubs her hand against his face and neck, making him flinch. "I want to conceive again," she relays to him. "I want to conceive a son, a son to be the living image of his father." She kisses his neck and nuzzles her face against his. She sounds deranged at this point, but Henry does not notice as he comes down from his high. "But I can't."

Finally, Henry's attention focuses solely on her. "Why?" he questions, wondering as to what she was telling him.

"As long as they're alive, I can't conceive a son," Anne speaks with venom in her voice.

"What are you saying?" Henry asks, concerned that his wife had gone mad.

Anne rubs her face against Henry's once more. "Catherine and her daughter."

Henry pushes Anne off of him, turning toward her with a look of horror on his face. "Are you saying you want me to kill them?" He shudders at his wife, but she places herself back on top of him again. She says nothing, instead kissing down his chest and moving towards his member. He says nothing as he stares at the ceiling while his wife pleasures him. He's not stupid. He knows exactly what his wife wanted. It scared him to his very core and he felt sick to his stomach. But what scared him even more was that he felt like he betrayed Grace.

* * *

 _ **5 September 1535**_

Anne strutted through the main hall of Thornbury, her head held high as she walked to the king's chambers. She had a bright smile on her face, especially since it seemed her and the king had reconciled last night. Many courtiers bowed and curtsied to her as she past, murmuring "your majesty" as she did so. Lady Madge Shelton, Lady Anne Cobham, and Lady Elizabeth Browne accompanied her. Yet, when Anne reached the doors to his chambers, she was met with one of Mr. Cromwell's secretaries.

"Your majesty," the secretary spoke, bowing to her. He held a pestered look on his face as he excused a page from their conversation.

"I came to see the king," Anne says, expecting the secretary to open the door for her.

"The king, madam, is unfortunately occupied at the moment with state affairs and has asked not to be disturbed." Anne is confused, turning around to look at Madge who also has a bemused look on her face. Conversation can be heard in the other room, all deep male voices so Anne is sure Henry is not with a mistress. "I see," she says. "Please tell his majesty that I stopped by to visit and that it would make me glad if he and I had dinner in my chambers tonight." Anne gives the door to Henry's chamber one last suspicious look before departing. The secretary nods at the queen, bowing as she leaves him and heads back to her chambers. Her joyful expression is now downcast and the courtiers begin to gossip amongst themselves as she returns to her rooms.

* * *

It is late in the evening as Henry once again drowns himself in papers. Cromwell had retired for that night, but he remained awake, unable to go asleep as he went over the reports of the religious houses once again. He knew something was wrong. He knew that Boleyn, Cromwell, and Cranmer couldn't possibly have received unsatisfactory reports for all of the monasteries. Much of the accusations were true while others seemed falsified. He would have to questions the abbots of each monastery to see exactly what was happening. He would have Warwick and More carry this out, not trusting anyone else to do so.

A page opened the door to his chambers, distracting him from his work. "What is it?" he questions. The page remains silent, henry letting out an exasperated sigh. "Speak!" he exclaims, frustrated at his servant. He remains standing with his back to the door, but the page can feel his anger start to rise without receiving a look from the king. He turns to the unknown figure, urging them to speak.

"Henry." It is not his name that catches his attention, but the voice that said it. His finger nails dig into the table as he tries to block the voice from his head. _No, it can't be_. These thoughts run in his head as hears the person take a few small steps towards him. "Henry," the voice says again, the sound like chiming bells in his ears. Henry feels his heart stop in his chest and his eyes begin to water. He lifts his head up from his work, hot tears starting to fall down his face. His body tenses up and his hands grip the table harder. He turns his head sideways, only the right side of his face showing as he faces the person. Henry feels as if he is hallucinating, rubbing at his eyes as he fully stands up and faces the person.

"Grace?"

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to my new favs/followers: wordghost2018, , leadencloudsonthehorizon, Marchesa di Pescara, BriaDelAngel, Nekokitten1123, shame and shame, the Daughter of Jezebel, and DreamsDark. Thank you once again to my guests!**

* * *

 **Ch. 17**

 _ **One half of me is yours, the other half yours**_ _ **Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,**_ _ **And so all yours.**_

 _ **~Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice**_

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 5 September 1535**_

It was blurry, as if she were in a dream as she awakened from her slumber. Grace opened her eyes, pressing her head to her forehead as she felt the most dreadful headache. It took a moment before she felt the pain in her leg and she gasped as it enveloped her. Her sounds of pain alerted Christian and Mary who had both fallen asleep as they watched over his sister.

"Father! Uncle!" Christian exclaimed, the two men bursting into Grace's chambers. Both had looks of relief on their face, Warwick beginning to cry at seeing his daughter was finally fully conscious. All of Grace's brothers also enter the room, standing at the foot of the bed and smiling at their sister.

"Sweetheart," Warwick said, coming to his daughter's bedside. He takes her weak hand in his, pressing a kiss to it lovingly. "It's a miracle," he speaks, as he rubs his thumb against her hand. Tears fall down his face, Grace giving her father a slight smile as he leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

"We were so worried," More spoke, sitting down on the other side of the bed next to his niece. He too is overcome with emotion, not bothering to wipe away his tears.

Grace immediately bolts up in her bed, the movement causing her to see stars as she clutches her head once more. "What about Elizabeth, Mary?" she questions, panicking for them as she wonders what happened.

"Both are safe. Mary was sent back to Hatfield with an armed guard for fear her presence would anger the queen and Elizabeth is still here at court," Warwick reveals, calming his daughter's fears. Grace nods, settling back into a comfortable position on the bed.

"The king visited," Arthur speaks, interrupting the adults as they speak. Grace bites her lip nervously, nodding at her brother to continue. Arthur steps forward, sitting on the edge of the bed as he switches places with his father. "Gracie," he continues, whispering the rest of the information into his sister's ears. "The king worships you and you don't even know it. He love you and I believe he does truly." Grace blushes at her brother's words, her family members looking curiously at the youngest Neville brother. Warwick and More both have an idea what Arthur said and send him a scolding look, worrying his words would have an effect on Grace's health. News like that could increase the heart rate, even if it was good news, and Grace's body did not need that type of reaction right now, considering how weak her body was from the poison.

"What day is it?" Grace questions, putting the matter of the king aside.

"Gracie," Mary says, speaking gently to her sister-in-law. "It is September 5th. You've been asleep for almost a month now. We all feared we would lose you." Grace's mouth drops open, not completely understanding her predicament. She nervously wrings her hands together, staring down at them and not at her family members.

"The poison put your body in a sleeplike state and thankfully, it exited your system without any lasting effects Dr. Butts said. He predicted that this would happen or else, your body would begin to deteriorate." Both the Nevilles and More cannot bear to think of the latter and Grace shudders at the thought of dying. "Perhaps, your body just needed time to recover before you could awaken darling," More speaks.

Grace nods, taking this all in. "Are you hungry," Arthur questions, smirking at his sister. Grace then realizes how hungry she is, her stomach growling loudly and her throat feeling parched. She blushes again. "I take that as a yes," Arthur finishes, heading into the other room to grab some sustenance for his sister.

Warwick takes back his position next to Grace, chuckling at his youngest son. "Just rest my darling. That's all you need to do right now." He leans forward, pressing another kiss to his daughter's forehead.

"Father," Grace speaks, reaching for his hand. "Please do not tell the king I have awakened. I don't want to cause a commotion at court quite yet," she teased him. Warwick nodded, choosing to let his daughter decide what she wanted to do. "Can you please ask if the queen will come to my chambers? I would like to talk to her." Warwick looked surprised at his daughter's request, but said nothing. He connected eyes with More, both of them remembering their previous conversation with the king. Grace had no clue what was in store for her.

* * *

Since Henry was locked within his chambers, Anne had decided to spend some time with her daughter. She was walking in the gardens, an outfit of gold and crimson clothing her body. She wore her typical French hood and her signature 'B' necklace which Elizabeth loved. She was reading from Machiavelli's _The Prince_ , something she and Henry had once discussed in length with one another when they had first begun to discuss his divorce from Catherine.

"Your Majesty," Anne hears as she strolls around the fountain in the garden. She sees Lady Bryan carrying Elizabeth in her arms and she smiles, putting her book aside.

"Elizabeth. Oh, my own heart," Anne speaks, holding her arms out for her daughter as she takes her from lady Bryan and embraces her. She laughs, excited that she will get to spend some time with her daughter.

"Ma…Mama," Elizabeth exclaims, giggling as her mother takes her from Lady Bryan.

"Ooh! Hello." Anne places kisses all over her daughter's face, making Elizabeth giggle even more. "You may leave us now, Lady Bryan," she says, excusing her daughter's governess. "Oh…My dear girl, my sweetheart." She presses her forehead against her daughter's and kisses her lovingly. "Have you missed me?" she questions. Though Elizabeth is at court, she rarely gets to see her mother since she is queen.

"Yes," Elizabeth speaks. "Why do you leave?" she questions her mother, wondering why Anne leaves her with her ladies whilst they are both at court. Anne feels guilty, ignoring her daughter's question.

"You missed me? I missed you." Anne presses another kiss to Elizabeth's cheek. "So much." Neither of the royals realize that a figure is watching them from the window. As Henry peers down on his wife and child, he smiles. He's glad they have a close bond, though he hopes Elizabeth does not see her mother's temper. He would not like for his daughter to know when they argue. A child should never see that.

Anne places Elizabeth down and she wanders towards the edge of the fountain. "Oh, let me go with you," says Anne and she props Elizabeth up on her knee.

"I see the fishies," Elizabeth giggles, pointing at the various goldfish in the fountain.

"Where? Show me. Show me where." Anne watches as her daughter points, sometimes her finger going in the water. She laughs at her antics as does Henry who continues to watch from the window. "Here? Here? They stopped here? Mama will watch you feed the fishies." She picks Elizabeth up again so that her small body is over the edge of the fountain so she can see clearer.

"Where?" Elizabeth questions, unable to see the fish as they swim through the water too quickly for her to see.

"Here and here," Anne speaks, showing her daughter the fish that reappeared.

Anne fixes her daughter's hair, pushing stray hairs back so they don't get in her eyes. "I see one! I see one! I see the fishies," Elizabeth exclaims, not realizing that her mother has begun to cry. Anne leans back on her knees, watching her daughter lovingly. She kisses the back of Elizabeth's head and tries to stop her crying. But she is so worried, so worried that Henry has tired of her. Henry has the decency to feel guilty at his wife's expression, realizing the stress he may have caused her. He turns away from them as he can no longer bear to see his wife's pain.

Anne wakes herself up from her crying stupor, wiping the tears from her eyes as she watches her daughter once more. "Where do you see a fishie my darling?" she asks, trying to stay positive as they play by the pond.

"Here mama," Elizabeth says, unaware of her mother's inner turmoil. "Mama, when Grace is better can she watch the fishies with us?" Anne pulls her daughter close, kissing the top of her head.

"Of course, my darling," Anne responds, realizing that her daughter's ladies had been neglecting their duties and gossiping about Grace. "I promise we will do everything together." Her thoughts fly to Grace, the woman who rescued her child. She knew what condition she was in and prayed that she would regain her health once more. She knew Grace had refused her husband's affections once more and she was forever grateful. She knew that if she woke up that things would be different. She just hoped she could use it to her advantage.

"Good," Elizabeth retorts, returning to her childish antics. She had no clue what was happening at court. It was the pleasantries of childhood and Anne hoped she could remain there for as long as she could before reality set in.

"Majesty," a voice speaks. Anne turns and sees the oldest Neville brother approaching her. He bows respectfully and waits to be called forward. Anne nods, signaling him to come forward.

"Lord Salisbury, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Anne asks.

"Majesty, my sister is awake and has requested to see you," Richard speaks, the queen raising her eyebrows in shock. She reaches for Elizabeth, rising to her feet quickly.

"Thank God," Anne says, heading towards the castle. She is more than relieved that Grace is alright for she would have lost a true friend and her daughter, a loving companion. She feels as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

"Perhaps the princess should return to her rooms. She may excite Grace too much." Anne nods, carrying her daughter in her arms. Richard escorted the queen inside, the two stopping first at Elizabeth's nursery so Lady Bryan could take her before heading to the Warwick chambers. Courtiers send curious glances their way, but both ignore them. They could gossip for all they cared.

Anne entered the Warwick chambers, her head held high as she connected eyes with Sir Thomas More. She said nothing, but continued to Grace's room. When she entered, she saw Grace sitting up in her bed. She looked fragile, but color was returning to her face. Her father and younger brother both sat at her bedside, but when they saw the queen, they immediately rose and bowed to her.

"Majesty," both men spoke as well as Grace. Warwick looked to Grace who bore no emotion on her face.

"Leave us," Anne spoke in her authoritative tone. Both men exited the room, Warwick sending a wary glance at his daughter and shutting the doors behind them.

Anne approached Grace cautiously, coming to stand by her bedside. "Many thought you would not wake up," Anne spoke as she gazed at Grace. "My uncle and father included." Grace shuddered at the thought.

"Well, here I am. Awake, but weak." Grace eyed Anne, not sure what she was going to do. She seemed guarded, as if her every move and word was being watched.

Anne went to sit next to her on the edge of the bed, looking a bit uncomfortable as she fiddled with her dress. "Lady Neville, I would like to thank you for saving my daughter. I know I have not always seemed so kind, but I am eternally grateful for what you did for your daughter."

Grace gives Anne a small smile. "Majesty, you have never seemed unkind to me." She reaches forward, giving Anne's hand a squeeze. "I know that sometimes I'm presented as a threat to you and your marriage as the king has made his…" she hesitates for a moment before gathering the courage to continue. "He has made his affections clear to you and to me." Anne frowns at that. She does not seem mad at Grace, but rather her husband.

"The king's eye tends to wander." Anne's eyes narrow as she looks off into the distance. "It didn't always. Not when we were courting. Not when he took me to France and presented me as his queen. Not even when I was pregnant and he officially announced me as his wife and queen." Grace has the decency to feel sympathetic towards Anne, wondering what it would be like to be in her position. "It wasn't until Elizabeth was born. He wasn't disappointed with me. He loves Elizabeth, she's the light of his life. But until I give him a son, many people will threaten my position and England will not have an heir." Grace can hear the troubled tone in her voice. "His eye went to Eleanor Luke first. I dismissed her quickly. He didn't even notice. Then my cousin Madge caught his attention with the encouragement of me, but that lastly for a few months, until you caught his eye." Grace blushed, pulling her hand away from Anne and feeling guilty. She had not wanted the king's eye on her, she had not wanted his affections. But now, she admitted to herself that after he had kissed her for the first time, she had begun to develop feelings for him.

"I know you did not want his attention. You came to court on behalf of your uncle. But now, it is clear to me that the king will continue to pursue and as much as it should bother me, it doesn't." Grace's mouth dropped open like a fish as she looked at Anne. Anne chuckled at her expression, shaking her head at Grace's unladylike face. "I know you do not want to displace me. You do not speak against me to the king."

"Majesty, I would never," Grace responds. "You are his wife." She would never do something so horrible, even if Anne did so to Catherine. However, it was not Anne's fault Catherine had been so stubborn. Even then, it was Henry, not Anne, who had sent Catherine away, though Anne had wanted it.

"Many would disagree with you Grace," Anne speaks, shaking her head at what many courtiers and Catholic supporters said amongst themselves. "The king has made himself head of the church and Elizabeth may be his heir for now, but Catherine and Mary are still viewed by the papacy as his real wife and daughter while my Elizabeth is a bastard." Anne begins to cry and Grace tries to comfort her.

"Majesty, perhaps you should stop thinking such things. It will only give you stress," Grace says, trying to allay the queen's fears. She has now seen what pressure Anne is under and cannot help, but feel as if she was the cause of some of it.

"You are right Grace," Anne says through her tears, "But I cannot help but worry a little." She can no longer contain her tears and begins to cry heavily. She leans into a surprised Grace who has no clue what to do at first. As Anne cries into her shoulder, Grace wraps her arms around the queen and tries to reassure her.

"Shhh…Shhh…" Grace mutters. "There is no need to cry majesty."

Anne sits up for a moment, clutching Grace's shoulders desperately. "Promise you will stay by my side. Promise me that you won't leave me." Grace can do nothing, but nod her head as Anne seeks solace from her once more. She is entirely confused from the queen's request, realizing her precarious position. Anne wanted her by her side, but how would she do that when the king wanted that as well?

* * *

It was late, too late for Grace to be rising from her bed and walking the halls of the castle. But she didn't care as she slowly, but surely walked to the king's chambers, only a satin chemise and loose blue robe around her body. Christian aided her, helping his sister as she limped across the floor to their destination. She was too stubborn to let him carry her, protesting that she had been in bed long enough and needed to build her strength up in her left leg. His wife had made quite the protest when they left, talking about Grace's reputation and marriage prospects. Grace rolled her eyes while Christian chuckled at his wife' protective nature over his sister, kissing her gently and reassuring her that everything would be alright.

Grace only trusted Christian with her plan, worrying that her other family members wouldn't understand what she was doing. She wanted to see the king in person, without being in the presence of people. She hated being stared at, her emotions being judged by all. By seeing him privately first, she was sure that she could hide all of emotions. She cared for him, she realized that when she woke up that morning. She had been resisting her feelings, trying to prevent heartbreak. She didn't want to be in the middle of a marriage, especially a royal marriage, as Anne had once done such a thing to Catherine. But, Grace couldn't hide her feelings anymore.

As Grace and her brother walked closer and closer to the king's chambers, Grace became more and more unsure of herself. Her hand squeezed her brother's tightly and her throat felt dry. Christian could feel his sister's shaking body and he tightened his grip around her waist to hold her up more. She was light, but the more she shook the more he lost his grip on her waist. "Shhhh" he spoke to her. "There's no reason to be nervous. I'll be right here by your side."

Grace nods at her brother's words, but her stomach starts to churn. She is still extremely nervous, unaware of how the king would act. She spurned his affections and it would only be natural for him not to want her anymore. But, when he held her in the courtyard, the way he looked at her haunted her to her core. He looked so worried, so scared for her. And though she had fainted in the middle of everything, she still heard his words as she drifted off into sleep. _'I don't care what you do! You save her life! Are you too incompetent to do your job? You are my physician. Obviously, I need to replace you with someone who understands the conditions of their job and knows what to do when the king's life is in his hands or any life for that matter.'_ Those words alone proved that he still held affections for her and now, she was ready to fully accept them, no matter what the consequences.

As they came to the throne room, they saw the guards posted at the doors. Upon seeing Grace and her brother, they opened them, sending them curious looks. Guards were also posted at the king's study as well as a page to alert his majesty of any visitors. Seeing Grace, the page bowed and entered the king's chamber to alert him of her presence, Grace was practically shaking at this point, unable to calm her nerves as she thought of what to say to the king.

The page opened the door to the king's chambers, distracting him from his work. Grace can hear Henry questioning the page and when he does not answer he shouts "Speak!" Henry remains standing with his back to the door, becoming quite frustrated with the page as far as Grace can tell. The page turns to her, urging her to speak.

"Henry," Grace says in a meek voice. She didn't even realize she said his name until it was too late. It felt odd on her tongue, but saying "majesty" just didn't seem right at the moment. Henry froze, halting his progress with his documents. She saw his hands grip the table harshly and she wondered if he was angered that she said his name or if he was attempting to ignore her. "Henry," Grace says again. She takes a few steps towards him, Christian releasing his grip from her waist and arm.

Henry's head turns to the side, looking at Grace from the corner of his eye. She can see the redness around his eyes and the look of disbelief on his face as he fully faces her. He looks as if he's seen a ghost and he rubs his eyes as if he is trying to make clearer the image in front of him. He takes in Grace's appearance. Her skin is pale, though color is returning to her cheeks. Her hair is in unruly curls. Her body appears weak and he can see a bruise on her forehead and some smaller ones on her collarbone. She looks a mess, but to him, she never looked more beautiful. Perhaps it was because he thought she would be taken from him.

Grace stands there before the doorway, staring at her feet as she is unsure what to do. She lifts her head, connecting eyes with the king who is gazing at her so intensely she blushes in response. She tries to walk towards him, but it is hard to mask her pain as she limps across the floor. Henry wastes no time in striding towards her, taking her in his arms. One hand wraps around her waist while the other tangles itself in her hair as he pulls her to him. Grace presses her palms against chest and she leans into his body as he embraces her. Henry tries to prevent himself from crying as he breaths in her scent, but he is unable to stop the wave of emotions that overtake him. He lets out a shaky breath as he holds her and Grace cannot help it as she begins to cry as well, though she only sheds a few tears.

Henry removes his hands from Grace's hair, bringing it down to grasp her chin. He pulls her face up towards his, their noses brushes against each other's. They both close their eyes and Henry closes the gap between them as he presses his lips gently against Grace's. It's not a kiss of passion, but one of desperation as Henry was so unsure if Grace would even wake up or not. He is careful as he kisses her, trying not to let his desire overtake him and not to scare her in her fragile condition. He pulls away, their foreheads pressed against each other's as he just takes in the fact that she is there right in front of him alive and well. They just stand there, holding each other. No words are needed in that moment, only silence.

* * *

 _ **7 September 1535**_

It was Elizabeth's second birthday, and the king and queen had arranged for a banquet to be held at court in their daughter's honor. Henry paraded his red-headed beauty around the hall, Elizabeth giggling at her father's antics. Anne smiled brightly at them from her position as she sat at the high table with her father and brother. She was wearing a red dress that day which accentuated her curves and highlighted her dark hair. She looked every inch the queen she was and she looked much happier than she had been in previous weeks. Perhaps it was because the king had come and visited her at night. She was sure Grace had something to do with it. But it was different. Henry did not just come to perform his duties as a husband, but enjoyed her company before and after they had coupled, he stayed there until morning. This had happened for the past two nights, since Grace had awoken. No one in court knew except for the king and queen, but the fact would be known that evening for they wished to surprise their Elizabeth who missed her companion dearly.

It was then that a more recovered and healthier looking Grace entered the main hall on the arm of her father. All of the courtiers gasped at her appearance, catching the attention of Elizabeth who was still in her father's arms. "Gracie, Gracie" she cried, Henry placing her on the ground as she ran towards Grace. Grace curtsied as she was supposed to, but as Elizabeth neared, she dropped to her knees and held her arms wide open for here to enter. Elizabeth ran into her embrace, her little arms wrapping around Grace's neck.

Grace could feel the wetness around her eyes as she tried to not cry in front of the whole court. "Thank God," she whispered to herself as she held Elizabeth to her. She did not know what she would have done if Elizabeth had been hurt, just as if Mary had been hurt. They were so important to her that she couldn't imagine either of them being harmed. She rose to her feet with Elizabeth in her arms, though her father aided her since she was still shaky. Henry waved him aside, helping Grace up himself.

"Lady Neville," Henry spoke, giving her a look of adoration that was hard not to notice by the courtiers.

"Majesty," Grace replied, attempting to curtsy with Elizabeth in her arms.

"Come," Henry said. "You are to sit next to me during this time of celebration." He guided her up to the high table, Anne embracing her when they reached it. Grace handed Elizabeth to her mother while she took her seat next to the king. The courtiers let out sounds of surprise at seeing Anne accept Grace so willingly as they had expected her to protest against her husband, but she said nothing. She had a broad smile plastered on her face as she sat down in her seat, talking to her daughter. Grace sat on the king's right side while Anne sat on his left, displaying to the courtiers that all was well between the three. It pleased some while others worried for they knew that if these women were allies, they could destroy anyone if they wanted to.

"I would like to make an announcement," the king exclaims, holding the queen's hand in his as they both look at Grace. "The queen and I would both like to formally thank Lady Neville for protecting our daughter's life and for that we are eternally grateful." The courtiers all cheer and shout at the king's declaration, Grace blushing from all the attention. "And to show our thanks," the king continues, "Both the queen and I would like to bestow upon Lady Neville the Duchy of Gloucester." Grace looks at the king confused, not understanding why he would do such a thing. She can see Boleyn glaring at her from the corner of her eye, but she ignores it.

"Majesty," Grace spoked, "As much as I am honored by your generosity, I wish to remain Lady Neville, and remain in the service of Queen Anne and Princess Elizabeth." She was 100% truthful in her response, not wanting such a title. She would obtain even more enemies if she did so and she wished to stay out of the spotlight at court.

Warwick looks pleased by his daughter's response, but he is sure the king will not take no as an answer.

"Nonsense," the king responds. "You shall be granted your lands and title before the court resumes it progress." It seemed the king was resolved in his decision and there was nothing she could do about it. She shuddered under the eyes of so many courtiers and connected eyes with Anne who gave her a look of encouragement.

* * *

The night went on, everyone seeming to enjoy the evening immensely except for Cromwell and Boleyn. They stood in the corner of the main hall, scowling as the king and queen laughed at something Grace said. The king took Grace's hand in his, kissing it gently, while he kissed his wife's cheek affectionately as he rose from his chair to go and mingle with some of the courtiers. Anne and Grace both noticed that he had drank a little too much wine, giggling to themselves as he stumbled towards Brandon in his drunken merriness. It seemed he was happy now, much more than he had been in the past year. Elizabeth had fallen asleep in her mother's arms and had been taken to her rooms by Lady Bryan earlier in the evening, the celebration for her birthday tiring her out. Anne and Grace were left to their own devices while the king wondered around the hall, giving them the perfect opportunity to talk.

"Majesty," Grace spoke. "My father has told me some interesting information about his majesty's reformation." Anne's eyebrows raise in curiosity.

"And what would that be my dear Grace?" Anne questioned, watching as her husband made his rounds across the room. His gaze never lingered from them, Anne and Grace, for too long as he strolled around the hall.

"Cromwell has apparently been behind the dissolution of monasteries with good reports and has placed all money from all monasteries into his majesty's coffers." Grace takes a sip from her chalice, watching as Anne's facial expression falls into a frown.

"Really?" Anne speaks. "I shall have to have a talk with Mr. Cromwell." Her head turns in the direction of the king's secretary, her glare fierce. Cromwell notices immediately as well as the smirk on Grace's face when he sees her looking at him as well. He gulps, knowing well what both women were capable of together. The balance at court had tipped and it seemed it fell in favor with the women closest to the king.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello everyone! I can't believe it has been so long since I updated. Hello to my new favs\followers: shame and shame, leslieljs713, aq34, Anne of England, Lady-Kiki-theevilmastermind, Seraphis88, yellow14m, hplover1616, Blackraven777, SnowX24XWhite, Kitsu137, Elizabeth of the Golden Age, sailinginthestorm, southsidequeenie, s jackson cullen, sheepinkgirl, Lady-Finwe, WriterReaser13, clo78, Trojan Prince, lizzwan, TudorRose1501, ReadingRose459, periwinkle98, OneoftheFrenchTrouvers, LittleFlower1995, sansalayne, NightCourt Reader, theclockworkharlequin, Littledot, QueenElizabethOfYork, KrystinaFaith2187, realawesome, , .3, WAR0032, LadyxAbsinthe, Cardinala, H2opolo127301, AmateurFanfic, Hewie101, Magui Potter XD, biancaandreea, purpleheart689, and Lunabell8.**

* * *

 **Ch. 18**

" _ **I bear a charmed life."**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare**_

" _ **Why do we think love is a magician? Because the whole power of magic consists in love. The work of magic is the attraction of one thing by another because of a certain affinity of nature."**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Marsilio Ficino**_

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 10 September 1535**_

Grace was to be made Duchess of Gloucester that day, though she did not desire to be given any such title. After the announcement made at Elizabeth's banquet, preparations had been made for Grace's ceremony before the court would finish it's summer progress. Already, a month had passed and several locations still needed to be visited. The court would continue their progress while Grace would remain at Thornbury for a few days for her health. She was still not able to walk without pain, but she was improving daily. Henry wished to continue with his court progress, although he hesitated because of Grace. He thought perhaps it would be better to continue the progress another time, but Cromwell insisted. He had altered the progress, keeping vital locations on the list while others would be visited the following year. Cromwell was already agitated enough as it was, wondering how it was that the king would bestow a duchy on the Duke of Warwick's daughter. _Apparently, saving the princess' life meant a woman could be elevated and her rise had nothing to do with the fact she was the king's favorite_ he thought sarcastically. Boleyn had the same opinion as him, George silent on the subject. It seemed Anne did not protest as well, agreeing with the king on the matter and confirming Cromwell's suspicions that the queen was in alliance with Grace.

As Grace readied herself in her family's chambers, she glanced at herself in the mirror, pleased, but not entirely happy with her appearance. She still had traces of bruises on her body, though her maid tried to mask it as much as possible. She wore her hair down so as to cover some of the spots that were noticeable, her hair falling down in chocolate spirals over shoulders. For the occasion, Grace had had no time to have a dress made for her, instead choosing one of her more elaborate gowns to don. She wore a gold gown tightly fitted to her body. It had a slight embellishment of gold material at the top of the bodice, but was elegant in its simplicity. The only jewelry she wore was pearl earrings and her simple cross necklace. She was absolutely stunning, or so the king thought as he watched her from the doorway.

Grace fidgeted with her hair, grimacing at the bruises on her collarbone. The one on her forehead was able to be covered, but the others remained as a sign of her near death experience. She stared back at herself in the mirror, unaware of the king's presence. At first, it looked as if she was looking over her dress and appearance. However, several images appeared in her mind, flashbacks from the month before. Before she realized it, the king was behind her and pulling her into his arms.

Henry had slowly approached Grace, knowing full well she had no clue he was there. She appeared deep in her thoughts, making Henry frown. He wondered what she was thinking about, the way she analyzed her bruises making him nervous. This day was supposed to be a happy one and he intended to make it such as he pulled her back against him.

Grace's back was against Henry's chest as he placed his arms on her waist and made his presence known. The movement startled Grace for a moment, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing against the king. She kept her eyes pinned to the ground, her breathing having become heavier as his actions had frightened her. Henry was silent, moving her hair to rest across her back and pressing his face into the crook of her neck to kiss the smooth skin. "Forgive me," Henry spoke, realizing what he had done, his tone gentle and comforting. His arms wrapped fully around her middle as he yearned to have her closer. Grace placed her hands over his, rubbing her fingers against his calloused hands. She remained quiet, not saying anything as the king pressed a kiss to her temple. She was still absorbed in her thoughts.

"What are you thinking about, sweetheart?" Henry questioned, his eyes connecting with Grace's in the mirror. Grace bit her lip, bringing a small smile to Henry's face. It was her little habit that he loved, Grace not even realizing when she was doing it. Henry pressed another kiss to her forehead, this time burying his face in her hair and taking in her scent.

"You realize what your courtiers are saying, don't you?" Grace asked. She pulled out of his embrace, her forehead creasing and a frown appearing on her mouth. Henry bore the same look on his face, his hands falling to his side as she walked away from him before turning to face him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she met his eyes. Henry let out a sigh, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. He hated when his courtiers spread rumors, specifically if they were about Anne or Grace.

"Grace, you shouldn't listen to such things," Henry spoke, "You and I both know they aren't true." He had a serious tone as he spoke to her, trying to calm her anxiety, but it helped little.

"Many say you are bestowing this title on me because I'm your mistress, that it has thing to do with Elizabeth," Grace retorted. She stared at the ground, trying not to cry. She could only think what else they thought of her. _Many probably think I'm trying to displace Anne_ she thought to herself. Henry approached her, reaching out to lift her chin up so she would look him directly in the eye.

"None of the things they say are true. You saved Elizabeth," Henry said, "And Mary," he added. "Let them believe what they wish, but at the end of the day, I know what my intentions are, as do you. Yes, my affections have been made known unintentionally, but I am giving you this duchy for one sole reason, though many may say it has to do with my love for you." Grace blushed at his words, her cheeks a flaming pink as he said such words. Henry leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. It lasted just a few seconds, but calmed Grace's fears. He ended the kiss, but pressed his forehead against hers, his hand which held her chin now going to her waist. The other followed suit. Grace's hands were pressed against his chest as they stood there, both of their eyes closed while Henry held her in his arms.

However, the couple was interrupted by a knock on the door and Christian entering the room. He halted when he saw the king with his sister, bowing before the two. "Majesty," he spoke, eyeing the two as he stood silently. "It is almost time," he continued. Henry nodded at his words, releasing Grace from his embrace, taking her hand and kissing it gently, before departing.

"I shall see you both in a few moments," Henry said, sending an acknowledging nod to Christian as he left the room and the Warwick chambers.

Christian raised an eyebrow at his sister and smirked. "Someone seems to have enjoyed their visit with the king," he teased his sister, Grace rolling her eyes at her brother's antics and stalking past him into the receiving chamber which served as a main room that led to the bedrooms. Christian and his wife shared a room while John remained at Warwick Castle with Mary. Warwick had his own room as well as Richard while More, who was present in the room, had his own chambers right next to theirs'. He would not miss his niece's ceremony, but would remain with her until she could join court.

Meanwhile, More had decided that he would return home to Crosby Hall and remain away from court and out of the spotlight for the time being. Henry had tried to convince him to stay, but More was determined to stay out of politics and play no role in court as he had done before. It seemed their relationship was not the same and would not be for awhile.

"Are you ready darling?" More questioned, holding his hand out for his niece to take. Warwick smiled at his daughter encouragingly, seeing her nervous expression. Grace merely nodded, letting her uncle lead her out into the hall and towards the main hall where all the other courtiers were waiting. Her injured leg still ached when she walked, but she was not limping anymore which was a good sign. More then released her hand when they reached the main hall, giving it a small squeeze as he leaves her. Her father, uncle, and brothers entered the room before her as she approached the king and queen alone.

Grace spotted the page standing next to the entrance and she gulped nervously. "The Lady Grace Neville!" he proclaimed. The courtiers parted, making a path as Grace walked past, her head held high and her eyes glued straight ahead. Two pages stand in front of her, one bearing a ceremonial crown, the other a bible. Her sister-in-law, Mary Harper, Christian's wife, bore the cloak Henry would place on her during the ceremony. Her hands begun to shake, but she clasped them together to calm herself. Thankfully, Anne sent her a look of reassurance, Elizabeth in her arms. The king and queen both wore their ceremonial attire, the Duke of Suffolk, the Duke of Norfolk standing next to them as well. Suffolk appeared happy for the occasion whereas Norfolk seemed nonchalant about the whole thing. He eyed Grace warily, wondering exactly what the girl's and her family's intentions were for the king. He knew Boleyn felt threatened, but he couldn't place a finger on this girl. She was so like Anne, but so different from her. And as Anne saw no problem with her, he would believe there truly was none. After all, Warwick rarely participated in politics, only having just done so at the king's request in regards to his reformation.

Meanwhile, Henry gazed at Grace proudly, his love for her evident in his eyes. All the courtiers could see it, even Anne could see it, but it did not bother her as it did before. All courtiers bowed as Grace passed, her face remaining blank as she made her way to where the king and queen stood before their makeshift thrones. She knelt before them both, her eyes staring ahead of her while she looked at neither monarch. She remained silent, nervously breathing as she waited for Cromwell to speak.

Cromwell held up Grace's patent to read, frowning as he did so. He had no desire to participate in this ceremony, but as the king's secretary, he had to. "To all and singular as well as nobles and gentiles as others to whom these presents shall come, it is the king's pleasure, by this patent, to confer on the Lady Grace Neville, daughter of the Duke of Warwick, in her own right and on her offspring, the noble title of Duchess of Gloucester. And also by this patent, to grant her lands worth 120,000 pounds a year, for the maintaining of her dignity," he pronounced. He finished reading the patent with a disgruntled look and stared down at Grace whose gaze connected with his. She raised her head up slightly, as if she was challenging him, to which Cromwell lowered his eyes and closed the patent. A victorious looks appeared on Grace's face for a moment. It is fleeting, but on her face enough time for her uncle to have realize what had happened.

The king approached Grace, holding out his hands for her to take. She boldly met his gaze as he raised her to her feet, bright green never leaving sharp blue. One of the pages stepped forward, bearing the ceremonial crown for the king to take. Henry reached for the crown, taking it off of the cushion the page was holding and placing it on Grace's head. Grace's eyes met Anne's and the queen nodded at her in respect. Henry then stepped around her, taking the ceremonial robe from Mary and placing it on her. He smoothed the material over her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment before returning to his sides. He walked around her again, halting in front of her before motioning to Cromwell.

Cromwell stepped forward and bowed to the king, holding out the letter of patent to his majesty. Henry grasped the scroll in his hand, turning back to Grace. "The patent of your nobility," Henry declared, handing the scroll to Grace. Grace grasped the scroll firmly in her hands, hardly believing that she is now a duchess in her own right. Henry reached out his hand for her to take, to which Grace grabbed. She dropped to a curtsy, holding her eyes demurely as she lowers herself.

"Majesty," Grace spoke, thanking him. She rose to her full height once more, Henry turning her forward towards the crowd of courtiers. He then released her hand, reaching for Anne before the two step in front of Grace to make their ceremonial procession across the hall. They began to walk, Grace trailing behind them. "Their majesties the king and queen, and the Lady Grace Neville, Duchess of Gloucester," a page announced as the three walk across the hall. Suffolk and Norfolk followed before all of the rest of the suitors follow suit. A small gathering was to take place in the queen's chambers in honor of Grace. Walking towards the queen's chambers now, Henry slightly tilted his head to look at Grace from the corner of his eye. She looked every bit a member of the nobility with her head held high and her posture full of pride. He turned forward, keeping his face blank, but he smiled internally. Everyone knew the power at court was shifting, they just didn't know how.

* * *

The court had enjoyed the party in the queen's chambers, dancing and listening to the music of Mark Smeaton. He was a genius with his violin and many delighted in his musical ability. Anne and Grace danced throughout the evening, though Grace was careful not to exert herself, especially when her leg started hurting. Henry never took his eyes off of them. The king was content for once, something he had not been for awhile.

When the evening died down, the courtiers slowly traveled to their own chambers, some with a partner for the night. The queen retired, her ladies attending to her in the late hours of the evening. Grace was escorted back to her family chambers. Being a duchess in her own right now, she was no longer a lady-in-waiting to the queen, but would be assigned a few ladies to attend on her as well as her own rooms if she chose so. Anne had suggested her nieces, Catherine Carey and Mary Howard, whereas Grace had thought of Catherine Pole and Winifred Pole, both daughters of Henry Pole, 1st Baron Montagu. Anne had opposed at first, but felt perhaps Grace was right to appoint such ladies to her household. However, Grace would still visit Anne daily while at court. After all, she was the queen's favorite.

Lying in bed in her chambers now, Grace heard the obnoxious noise of knocking on her bedchamber door before the king stumbled inside, a tipsy Charles Brandon holding the king up cheerfully. Grace sat up, raising her eyebrows at the two men and giggling at the king's drunken bow to her. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pulling her nightgown over her knees and pulling the blankets up around her shoulders for modesty.

"Madam," Suffolk spoke, I have brought the king for it seems in his drunken stupor that he may need a gentle lady to care for him." Grace rolled her eyes at the spectacle, her brother Christian chuckling at the doorway with his wife, Mary. Grace was thankful that they were awake instead of her other brother. However, she knew her father and uncle were talking in her uncle's chambers and she prayed they did not walk in and come upon the scene.

"Come now Charles, am I not allowed to say goodnight to the fair lady?" the king questioned, jesting with Brandon. A few more laughs were heard.

"We shall leave you then," Suffolk exclaimed, "for I too shall see my sweetheart to bed." He exited the room while Christian and Mary did as well, Christian sending Grace a wink before shutting the door behind them.

Grace spoke first, teasing the king. "Majesty," she said, "I believe this is highly inappropriate. What would people say if they heard the king of England was in my bedchambers?"

Henry bowed to Grace teasingly and said, "My love I would imprison them in the tower if anyone spoke ill of you." Grace giggled, raising her eyebrows at his words. He rose from his bow, walking towards her and placing his arms on either side of her while she sat on the side of the bed. His rubbed his nose against her, the loving action making Grace smile. "I desire you above all other things," Henry uttered, a shiver erupting down Grace's spine. He was serious in his tone now, a seductive edge to his voice. Grace could smell the ale on his breath as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. She began to shake, from nervousness or anticipation, she did not know. He pulled back, confusing Grace as she thought he would have wanted more. Instead, Henry kneeled cautiously and lifted up her nightgown, revealing the marred skin on her thigh. He frowned, his tipsiness melting away as he stared down at the once open wound. The skin had healed over with stiches and medicine, but it still had light bruising around the edges, just as the other parts of her body were still littered with bruises. Henry ran his hand delicately over the scarred tissue, Grace flinching for a moment. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the skin. He laid his head there, on her lap as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Grace was completely perplexed by his behavior, holding her hands at her sides before running them through his hair. She wondered to herself what his dark hair must have looked like in his youth, the trademark red hair of the Plantagenets and the Tudors. Now only traces of dark red existed in his hair, but one could barely see them unless they tried hard enough. Grace continued to drift her fingers in the king's hair, Henry tensing up after he had seen her wound. He calmed now, relaxing as he felt Grace's touch.

"If you hadn't woken…" Henry murmured. Henry lifted his head up from Grace's lap, standing on his feet and taking her face in the palms of his hand.

"Shhh…" Grace whispered, placing her hands over his. "We don't need to discuss that matter." Henry nuzzled his face against hers, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply in.

"Lie back," Henry spoke gently, "And get under the covers." Grace obeyed his orders, Henry stepping back as she swung her legs back onto the bed and pulled her bedsheets over her. She turned on her side and watched as Henry removed his boots and overcoat, though he struggled because of his tipsiness. She smiled at his efforts, giggling when he finally climbed into bed after her. Henry wrapped his arms around her, not seeking more from her. All he wanted was to feel her warmth against him. All sexual desires were cast away from Henry's mind and instead, he slept peacefully for the first time in weeks. Grace had no idea the extent of his feelings for her nor what he had said to her father or uncle. All she knew was that the king loved her, but she did not know if she loved him. She respected him and cared for him, but she was cautious.

Grace knew when the king had fallen asleep. She looked up from her position in his arms, gazing up at him as he slept. She wasn't sure what he was trying to tell her earlier, but at the moment, she didn't want to know. She'd rather he be sober when he told her what he had felt. She could tell he was pained by something or at least bothered, but she would worry about that later. She soon fell asleep, comforted by the feeling of Henry's arms around her.

* * *

The next morning, the English Court began to make its way into the country, continuing its summer progress. Anne rode on ahead in her carriage, saying her goodbyes to Elizabeth who would remain at Thornbury Castle with Grace until her wounds had fully healed and she was ready to meet the court once again. Unbeknownst to Anne, Mary would be retrieved from Hatfield to spend time with Grace while she recovered. It was the king's gift to her, though Cromwell thought it very suspicious.

While Anne and the court had moved on ahead, the king said his farewell to Grace, stealing kisses from her in a hidden alcove near the stables. The window next to the alcove overlooked the stables and would alert the pair of any people approaching while any noise on the stairs near them would surely warn them of any approaching courtiers that remained behind. Suffolk lingered behind, talking with Christian. The duke and his elder son continued on with court while More and Christian remained behind with Grace to watch after her and escort her back to court when her recovery was complete. Of course, More would then travel back to his home and remain away from court for the time being. It made him uneasy, being the saved Sir Thomas More, once a great friend of the king's, and now his status was unknown to all. He had no idea what his relationship with Henry would be, but for now, he would stay out of the spotlight and away from the king until otherwise noted. If the king continued the way he was towards Grace, More was sure he would be back at court and by her side.

"Majesty," Grace uttered as the king kissed her neck one more. His hands wrapped around her waist as he pulled her towards him. Grace neither pushed him away or held him close. She was just worried the court would be suspicious if he stayed much longer. "Majesty," she said again, laughing as the king continued his actions. "Your courtiers are going to notice if Brandon and you do not appear behind them soon."

"Damn the court," Henry whispered into her neck, making Grace giggle again. He took her face in his hands, stroking the skin of her cheeks with his thumbs. "I know not how long I will be separated from you and I wish to drag out my farewell to you as long as possible." He pressed his lips against hers as Grace smiled at his words, her hands drifting to the back of his neck. Henry's hands lowered to her back, Grace feeling the pressure of his hands there. She could feel that he wanted more, but he hesitated in pushing further. He did not want to scare her, especially in the light of recent events.

Henry's kisses became more intense as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, startling Grace for a moment before she acclimated herself to the feeling. She followed his motions, unsure of herself, but it just made Henry kiss her more deeply. His hands, previously on her back, lowered to cup her bottom, making Grace jump and giving Henry the opportunity to lift her up and set her down on the ledge before the window. Grace's legs opened willingly as he lifted her skirts and held her under her thighs. She flinched for a moment when he touched her wounded leg and he halted for a moment, making sure she was alright. As soon as Grace nodded her head to say so, Henry continued to ravage her, his lips tracing a path from her lips onto her neck. Grace's hands held onto his shoulders tightly, her legs squeezing around his middle as he held her under her thighs. He made no move to advance his hands further, though he desired to.

Grace bared her weight on the ledge as much as she could, but the way Henry was grasping her thighs so tightly, he didn't seem to notice her struggle. His lips continued their onslaught until they reached her breasts and he kissed the skin there before running his tongue along the tops of them. Grace shivered once again, biting her lip, and she could feel one of his hands wandering out from under her skirts, reaching for her back. Henry stepped in closer than he had been, removing his lips from her skin. One hand still remained under Grace's thigh. However, the other began to untie the laces on the back of her dress. Grace's breathing suddenly became heavy as she realized what he was doing, though she made no move to stop him. Henry's face nuzzled against her own, his fingers attempting to untie her laces. However, he was slow in his task and frustrated, his other hand released its grip on Grace's thigh to quicken the pace. Grace leaned forward as he did so, placing her hands on his chest as he looked down her back to finish his goal.

Grace could feel the cold air on her skin as Henry opened the back of her dress and she trembled in anticipation. He moved his hands down her arms until they reached the ledge of the window. She looked up at him with so much trust as she leaned back and drew her arms one by one out of the sleeves, holding the dress to her front modestly. She could see the dark look in his eyes, a combination of lust as well as love as he stared down at her and awaited her next move. His hands remained pressed against the ledge before the window, though he struggled to contain himself.

Finally, Grace removed the material from her body, revealing her breasts to Henry. He was in complete awe of her body, his eyes memorizing every inch of her front from her collarbone to her taunt stomach. He reached his hand out, the back of his hand drawing a path from the base of her neck between her breasts and finally over her belly before he cupped one of her breasts in his hand. His eyes connected with Grace's as he did so and she gasped at his action. Henry immediately leaned forward, capturing her lips in a kiss and burying his hand in her curls while his other hand remained placed over her breast. He was tender with the soft flesh, his hand running over her rosy bud which made Grace moan in pleasure. Henry could already feel his member tightening in his breeches at the sound and once again, his kisses deepened as he exerted his control over her. Her head leaned back as his kissed her and he moved his other hand to mimic his movements with her other breast.

Grace's hands tightly held the front of his overcoat as Henry explored her open body, making her feel sensations she never had before. She pulled him closer, wanting more. Henry could feel her legs tightening around him as his hands had their way with her. His intense kisses hinted at his yearning for her and once again, his lips moved from her lips to her neck and attempted to reach their sought out destination. However, the noise of shuffling feet was heard below and startled both of them. Grace let out a whimper at the thought they had been caught in the act.

Henry had immediately removed his hands from Grace's breasts and his lips from her collarbone at the noise, his hands reaching for her back and pressing her against him so as to hide her nakedness if some unknown intruder was to appear. They were both silent, waiting to see if anyone was nearing. But the sound was gone as quickly as it was heard. Henry looked behind grace and out the window, trying to spot anyone that might seem to have seen them. However, he only saw Suffolk and Christian conversing below.

Worried about anymore disturbances, Grace quickly slipped her dress back on, making Henry chuckle at her hastening to cover up. She sent him a scowl, but blushed at the noise. Reaching for her back to tie her laces, Grace's hands were swatted aside as Henry expertly laced up the back of her dress. Grace raised an eyebrow at his actions, but said nothing. He had had no problem performing the task, indicating his experience with women. It made Grace falter for a moment, and she stared up at the king with an unreadable look.

"What is it darling?" the king questioned. Grace bit her lip in reply, her eyes turning towards the floor. It took her a few moments before she built up the courage to ask him her question.

"Your majesty is quite experienced with women and I can't help but ask how many of these women are there?" Grace stared up at him innocently, asking a very straightforward question that Henry himself could not even answer. He was shocked, losing his composure to reveal a strained look on his face. He rubbed his face in a flustered manner, unsure how to answer.

"If you are worried, sweetheart, you have no reason to be." Henry was careful with his words, careful not to offend her in some way. He grabbed her hands, holding them in his, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Those women are in my past and you are my future." He smiled down at Grace, hoping his words would sooth her, but they only made her weary. Grace knew of Bessie Blount, the king's mistress who bore his only living son. And then there was Mary Boleyn, cast aside after five years and replaced by her sister, Anne. Her children's parentage was questioned, though many said their fair complexion betrayed them.

Grace could only nod her head at him. She could only wonder exactly what the king felt for her, whether she was just a passing fancy or if she truly mattered to him. The two then made their way to the courtyard, Henry leading Grace by the hand down the stairs. He released her hand from his grip as he made to mount to steed, Brandon already waiting on his own horse.

"I shall see you in a few weeks' time, sweetheart," the king spoke, smiling down at Grace as he fixed his reigns in his hand. She was quiet, but nodded her head at him in response. He was concerned with her odd behavior, but said nothing, turning his horse away from her and spurring his horse down the road along with Brandon.

Grace watched after him, Christian coming to stand next to her sister. "What is it?" he questioned her. Grace bit her lip, turning to her brother with a weary expression on her face.

"You would tell me if I was just another mistress, wouldn't you?" Grace asked her brother. Christian enveloped his sister in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"No," Christian said in response. "The king has no ill intent towards you and I know he will not depart from you if you chose for him to do so. He is dedicated to you more than anyone, perhaps even more than the queen, and Cromwell fears that."

"He should," Grace replied, in an apprehensive tone, catching Christian's attention. "He should fear making the king's reformation his own." Grace said nothing else, walking back inside the castle and towards her rooms. Christian's eyes followed after her, wondering what his sister had in mind for the king's disliked secretary. She had the power to destroy him now and it seemed that was exactly what she intended to do.

* * *

 _ **Winchester Palace 26 September 1535**_

The court had been traveling for a little over two weeks now, first arriving at Acton court and ending at Winchester. Other places that the court had visited included Sodbury Manor, Bromham House, Wulfhall, Thruxton, Hurstborne Priors, and Wolvesey Palace. The Boleyns had immensely disliked staying at Wulfhall, the residence of the Seymours. Anne had noticed the way one of the Seymour girls always seemed to be blushing when the king was around. Jane was her name and she was extremely plain and annoying to Anne. Unfortunately, the Seymours would be joining them on the rest of the progress. Currently, Anne was in her chambers, having called for Cromwell to appear.

Church bells rang outside the queen's chambers, Anne pacing in her rooms as she read from her book of hours. Her main lady, Nan, entered her rooms and curtsied to her. "Your Majesty. Mr. Secretary Cromwell is here." Anne turned to the door, closing her book and awaiting Cromwell's appearance.

"Madam. You wished to see me?" Cromwell asked, bowing to her out of respect.

"My father tells me you are determined to close every religious house in England. Is it true?" Anne questioned, walking around Cromwell and wrapping her book of hours in a protective cloth. Cromwell can tell something is off in Anne's voice. She is unusually quiet, something deadly if you were an enemy of the queen.

"Yes. As Your Majesty knows, the Church commissioners found that fraud, laxity and abuse were commonplace," Cromwell replied. Anne turned back towards him, raising her eyebrows.

"Yet, some religious houses received good report. Is that not also true?" Cromwell remained silent, unsure how to answer the queen. "I also hear that all the wealth and assets of the monasteries are to be transferred to the king's treasury." Anne circled around Cromwell, waiting for him to answer.

"Indeed. I intend to make the king the most powerful and the richest king in Europe." Cromwell is clear in his words, though he is weary of what the queen is getting at.

"But surely some of that wealth could be put to better uses." Cromwell is confused at the queen's words.

"Better uses, madam?" Cromwell questioned.

"Yes, for endowments to charitable and educational causes which even Wolsey did." Anne voice raised slightly, irritated that Cromwell did not see the meaning of their talks. She paced around him again, eyeing him.

"Madam, I am surprised to hear you question the king's policy which your father and brother wholeheartedly support." Anne chuckled at Cromwell's words.

"I question the policy, Mr. Secretary, because I am not convinced that it is the king's." Anne's voice is deadly, her threatening tone alarming Cromwell.

"Madam, I…" Cromwell stuttered.

"You are far too highhanded, Mr. Cromwell." Anne spoke through gritted teeth. "You ought to be careful or I will have you cropped at the neck." Her tone in venomous and she scares Cromwell to his very core, though he makes sure not to show it. She points her head towards the door, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. Cromwell departs, Anne letting out a huge sigh of frustration. Cromwell needed to be dealt with, but Anne was sure she would have consequences for putting him in his place.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hi all! Thank goodness it's only been around three weeks since my last update. Trying to get more chapters out every two-three weeks during the summer. Hello to all my new favs/followers: Kaahh R. Silva, pentheseleia, Scifigrocerygal, Sea Goddess Amphitrite, shamrocksmoker, Nelia-Mira, J2000l, akaenestas, Marauder Heir, Angel-Peyr, Kaitlinxm7, and Annie Boleyn Tudor.**

 **Response to guest 1: Glad you like it!**

* * *

 **Ch. 19**

 _ **By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks!**_

 _ **~William Shakespeare**_

" _ **When I investigate and when I discover that the forces of the heavens and the planets are within ourselves, then truly I seem to be living among the gods."**_

 _ **-Leon Battista Alberti**_

* * *

 _ **Brobham House 14 September 1535**_

 _To my dear friend Grace Neville,_

 _Court has become extremely boring without you by my side. My ladies, though I still have Nan, have no brains about them and would rather participate in lewd activities than display themselves as virtuous girls. It had become tiring as of late, more so than usual. Sir Henry Norris has been courting Madge for quite some time, and he still visits her, but some say he is not looking for marriage, merely a pastime to keep him occupied. I don't see him as such a man, being a loyal supporter of his majesty's reforms of the church. But gossip still surrounds him, as it does me._

 _I can't help but feel many eyes on me without you here. Many whisper as I walk past and some of their comments I can hear. I ignore them, but in your absence, it seems they multiple by the minute. My father believes me to be acting like a silly girl, whose mind wanders too much while George tries to comfort me and my fears. You and he are the only ones who understand my fears._

 _His majesty has been kind to be since our departure from you. He has been visiting my chambers the past few nights and I pray that god may bless my womb once more. I hope that it is a son so this civil unrest will end and so that my position at queen will be secure. I fear so much that the king will set me aside, that he will return to Catherine and restore Mary as his heir. I know she is your friend, but if you were queen and Elizabeth was your daughter, you would understand how deep my fear runs within me. It has consumed me as of late, the farther I am from you. I hope you will return to me soon, for I need your council more than ever._

 _Written by the hand of the one who misses you dearly,_

 _Anne_

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 16 September 1535**_

 _To my Queen,_

 _It has been very quiet since court has left. Elizabeth and I often play alone in the gardens, listening to the sounds of the birds as they fly overhead. Lady Bryan is always close by if I need her. I do not trust any of Elizabeth's ladies for fear they may gossip around her when I am not present. Elizabeth has taken well to her French lessons and I think you may make a scholar of her yet._

 _I fear that you and I will always be the subject of gossip whether we deserve to be or not. And as it pains you, it does the same to me as well. As for your father, he has no right to say such things to you. You are queen of England and not by his doing. As for George, he is like my Christian. Our brothers seem to understand us best when our fathers do not._

 _As for your good news, I pray the same as well. It makes me glad to his majesty once again showing you the affection you deserve. It makes my heart swell to know that no ill feelings are between you anymore, for I had feared I was the cause of such feelings. We will be reunited soon enough, for my leg is healing quite nicely. I hope to return to court when you reach Winchester._

 _Your loyal and loving servant,_

 _Grace Neville_

* * *

Grace, Elizabeth, and Mary sat in Grace's new, private chambers, going over designs for how she would like to decorate her new residence, Gloucester Castle. The king had gifted the castle to her when she received her title and eyebrows were raised at the thought. After all, Gloucester had belonged to the kings of England until the Yorkists. The women were looking at cloths of blue and green, Grace unable to decide what colors she preferred in her chambers versus the main hall of her new home. Grace's sisters-in-law, Mary and Anne, were also present. Mary Boleyn had stayed behind at Warwick Castle to take care of the children and because she was with child once again.

"What about this one?" Mary questioned, holding up a light blue that resembled the sky.

"It's too bright," the other Mary replied. "It would be much more suitable for a nursery."

"Well what blue is suitable, sister?" Grace retorted to her sister-in-law, holding Elizabeth on her hip. The child watched curiously as the women looked over cloths.

"Maybe a blue more similar to the king's eyes," Anne spoke, making Grace's face turn red. Mary's face was similar, though she was embarrassed because they were talking about her father. Grace rolled her eyes, ignoring the remark.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, I must head to my chambers. I have a blue dress in mind that may be a more suitable color." Mary left the room abruptly, partially speaking the truth. Grace watched her with a frown on her face. She turned to Anne with a scowl on her face.

"Elizabeth, why don't you go and play with Arthur in the other room, hmm?" Elizabeth nodded her head at Grace, Grace setting her down and watching as Elizabeth walked from the door of her chambers into the parlor. Arthur had been reading in front of the fireplace in the other room and immediately noticed when Elizabeth entered the room. Grace heard a giggle from the princess and turned back to her sisters-in-law. "Why'd you have to go and say that Annie?" Grace questioned her elder sister-in-law. "It's already awkward enough as it is. You didn't have to go and make her feel more uncomfortable. I told you not to bring up his majesty."

Anne had the decency to look guilty, though Mary had a small smirk on her face. "Come now Grace," Mary spoke, "The king had his eye on you for half a year before you actually started to acknowledge him and he's been in love with you for god knows how long." Mary twirled her golden blond hair between her fingers, slightly agitated with Grace's scolding. "she should be used to it by now."

"Just because her father has made his affections clear for me does not make it alright with her." Grace was irritated with her sister-in-law, her hands clenched at her sides. "Mary has lost her mother because the king decided to wed Anne, a woman he had fallen in love with. And now many say I could do the same thing to Anne, Mary included. It's a sensitive topic."

"No, you're being sensitive." Mary crossed her arms around her chest, staring defiantly at Grace. Anne looked between Grace and Mary nervously, wondering how Grace was to react.

"Hold your tongue when your around her, Mary. You too Anne. That's all I ask," Grace spoke, pleading with her sisters-in-law

"I just have one question before she comes back," Mary says. Grace raises her eyes and nods, not sure what she would ask. "I'm not asking this one behalf of Christian, the man would not wish to know the answer to this, but have you accepted any of the king's advances towards you?"

Grace was speechless, unsure of how to approach the question. "You have!" Mary exclaimed with a girlish squeal, jumping up and down in her chair.

"Oh tell us!" Anne held the same expression on her face, one of girlish glee.

Grace blushed from their excitement, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to speak, but couldn't. "I…I…I'm not telling you anything. That is private."

"Not when he's the king of England!" Anne said, shaking her head. "Nothing's private when you're the favorite of the king of England."

"Now tell us before I have to force it out of you," Mary urged.

Grace, still blushing from the interrogation of her sisters-in-law, at first mumbled under her breath to which the women scolded her until she finally gained the courage to tell them what had transpired. "He has touched me, barely," she finally revealed, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment.

"Barely?" Anne questioned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's only touched her once," Mary retorted, a sly smile on her face. "You haven't touched him, have you?"

"Of course not!" Grace exclaimed, her face turning a deeper red than before. "Can we change the topic now?" she asked, biting her lip nervously. "Mary might come back and I don't want her to hear this."

"You know I could tell you how to please him," Mary continued. Anne giggled at her words, covering her mouth when Grace sent her a glare. She was clearly not entertained right now as the other two women were.

"I'd rather you not," Grace replied sternly.

"It's not a sin, Gracie," Mary spoke. "We women must teach each other how to keep a man interested, how to keep a man on his feet and wanting more."

"I don't think Grace needs to do that to keep the king pleased," Anne said, her eyes again darting between Mary and Grace, wondering if Grace was going to lose her temper.

"It wouldn't hurt her to know how to touch him…" Mary was cut off by Grace.

"That's enough," Grace spoke in a commanding tone, her eyes deadly. "I don't want to hear any more about this while Mary is here. Do you understand?" Mary and Anne could only nod their heads as they looked at Grace. They were actually quite shocked at her tone and a little scared to be honest. Grace was never this private with them. They had hit a nerve and saw Grace's tense body language. Grace let a sigh. "I don't think either of you realize how dangerous this is, how quickly our fortunes may change. If the king tires of me, our enemies, father's enemies, can make our life a living hell. We need to be careful and speaking like that should only be done in the utmost private of places." Anne and Mary stared at Grace wide-eyed, but both nodded.

Mary then entered the room, completely oblivious to the women's conversation. She noticed the tense atmosphere, but said nothing and showed Grace the color she had been speaking of. Grace plastered a smile on her face, not exposing any of her emotions at that moment. She would not let Mary know what had just occurred. For the rest of the afternoon, the women focused on picking out the color palette for Grace's new residence, no one giving a hint as to what had transpired during Mary's absence.

* * *

 _ **Wulfhall 17 September 1535**_

 _My sweetheart,_

 _We have just arrived at Wulfhall, the home of Sir John Seymour. Though his lands are plenty and I have enjoyed our stay here thus so far, nothing fills the vacancy within my heart when I am not with you. The days drag on as I am separated from you, but I know you must fully heal before you are able to travel again. I eagerly await the day when you will be returned to me again, when you are recovered and our able to be in my arms. I miss your soft touch against my face and your smile which seems to be the only thing I want every morning and every evening. You are the first and the last thing I see before my eyes open and close every day and every night. My love for you has consumed me and I am entirely yours._

 _From the one who wishes to be in your presence the most,_

 _Henry_

* * *

 _ **19 September 1535**_

 _My dear Grace,_

 _We have been at Wulfhall the past day or so, and I must say I absolutely despite the place. It is utterly boring and all his majesty does is hunt. Brandon seems quite pleased with himself at keeping him occupied and away from me. I know you favor his wife, but the man hates me. Cromwell has also been avoiding me, though I'm sure he knows I wish to have a discussion with him about the Reformation. The king trusts him too much, and I see now that I put too much trust in him myself._

 _One thing that has particularly bothered me the last day is the eldest of the Seymour girls, Jane. Whenever she is around the king, her eyes go wide and she plasters an over-the-top smile on her face. It seems her father has tried to lecture her in capturing the eye of the king, which has not worked. His majesty seems too occupied with hunting and feasting to notice any women, least of all Jane Seymour. I have inquired about them to father, to which he responded that they are an old family with ties to the crown. The eldest son, Edward, is a cold man while Thomas, the youngest one, is rash. The other children seem to keep to themselves and have never been to court so there is no way to tell what their ambitions are. Whatever they hope to achieve, it will take much more than flaunting their sister in the king's face to gain their attentions._

 _Please write to me as soon as possible. I ache for your company my Gracie._

 _~Anne_

* * *

Anne watched from her place at the head of the main banquet table as the king walked through the crowds, conversing with his courtiers. He was in good spirits that night, having enjoyed a much satisfactory day of hunting in the autumn woods. Her father and brother sat at her side while Master Seymour and his sons sat at the side of the king that night.

Anne watched the king keenly, her eyes never wavering from his figure. It wasn't until Jane Seymour stepped into his path that Anne narrowed her eyes and a frown appeared on her face. Jane was the complete opposite of her: pale skin, blond hair, and blue eyes. She was an English beauty while Anne was exotic. Jane blinked her eyes up at the king innocently and curtsied to him, trying to make it seem that her appearance wasn't intentional. Henry merely nodded his head at her politely and walked passed her, her presence simply unimportant to him for the moment. A victorious smile broke out on Anne's face as she watched her husband head towards Brandon instead. She leaned back in her chair, having realized her body had naturally moved forward when watching the scene. Her body finally relaxed and she stopped worrying so much about her husband.

Henry reached Charles, embracing his best friend. "I have a letter for your majesty," Charles announced, handing Henry a letter with Grace's recognizable seal plastered on the front of it: a bear on a bed of honeysuckles. Henry grinned excitedly, his friend chuckling at his child-like behavior. Charles had ridden to Thornbury to deliver Henry's letter and retrieve Grace's letter for the king. It had been a hard ride, but if anyone could do it, Charles was the man for the job.

Henry pressed a kiss to the front of the letter before walking to a secluded area where only Charles could see him read it. Henry's eyes scanned over the contents of the letter, smiling as he did so. Charles watched his friend, noticing how the worries of kingship disappeared as Henry read Grace's letter.

 _Your majesty,_

 _I too feel as if the days have lengthened since your departure, though it seems I have been more occupied than you with the Lady Mary and Princess Elizabeth. I thank your majesty again for allowing me the privilege of allowing your eldest daughter to stay with me, but I wonder when she will have a permanent place in court. She is your daughter Henry and daughters need their fathers. I know with the circumstances at court will it seem as if you are discrediting her majesty, but as Mary cannot see her mother, will you also deny her the chance to see her father? You may have reconciled with her, but she still feels a lack of love from you. Show her that you care about her well-being and allow her to be my lady at court. If you do not allow it now, I ask that you consider the situation over the next few weeks. I yearn for your company Henry, but Mary has desired it far longer than I have._

 _And as for healing, I shall be better within the next week or so, and will be able to join court. I await the moment I will be reunited with your majesty._

 _Your obedient servant,_

 _Grace Neville_

Henry was perplexed at Grace's letter. She made no mention of how she felt being away from him, only pleading that he allow Mary to return to court. There was emotion in her letter, but it was not exactly what he expected nor what he wanted of her. She still hesitated in showing how she felt about him, focusing on Mary's case instead of revealing her feelings. Henry let out a deep sigh, his eyes connecting with Charles. "Grace is much more complicated than you understand my friend."

Charles let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at Henry's words and clapping him on the back. "Women are always complicated, especially those who never admit their true feelings to us." Henry raised an eyebrow at Charles' words, pressing him to say more. "My wife is much like your Grace, majesty, but Grace is far wilder than my Catherine." Henry nodded his head and laughed.

"That is more than true," Henry spoke, a cheeky grin appearing on his face. Charles then waved towards the feast for that evening, allowing Henry to walk in front of him and back to the entertainment for that evening. However, Henry still dwelt in his mind over how to truly win Grace's affections.

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 21 September 1535**_

 _My queen,_

 _It gladdens my heart that you seek me for comfort. I understand your position about Brandon. I view the man in a different light under the circumstances I am in and that you are in. However, he may seem close to the king, but only speaks when he thinks necessary. He does not manipulate politics and does not see to advance himself as you may think. His wife voices his opinions to me often and sometimes, they mirror your own. You may think that she is your enemy, being the daughter of one of Catherine's ladies, but, she is loyal to her husband above all else and perhaps that is the reason why she seems cold to you._

 _As for Cromwell, I agree with you. The man exercises too much power over the king who seems to believe his lies far too much. In regard to the Seymour girl, my father does not like their family as well, nor do my brothers. They are far too ambitious for his liking. Jane will disappear as soon as she showed herself._

 _As for Elizabeth, she is doing quite well in her lessons and excels daily. She has an aptitude for French and I am sure she will make you proud with her progress. She will one day be a great wife to any man, but as a queen, she would excel and reign over all who come into her presence. She reminds me of you greatly, though her occasional outburst reminds me of his majesty. I hope to be with you within the next week or so. I miss you dearly, but Elizabeth misses you more. You are her mother after all, and the bond between mother and daughter is an important thing._

 _Your loving servant,_

 _Grace_

* * *

 _ **Bishop's Palace, Hampshire 26 September 1535**_

 _Grace,_

 _I urge you to journey to Winchester as soon as possible. I have had a dispute with Mr. Cromwell and I fear many are starting to talk. My father has reprimanded me for my behavior, though he has not right to do so. He would not even let me explain, saying that my duty is to produce an heir and nothing else. Apparently, my status as queen means nothing to him. Please get here as soon as possible._

 _~Anne_

* * *

 _ **Kimbolton Castle**_

Catherine lay in her bed, unable to rise due to the pain wracking in her chest. She had been bedridden for the past week now and her health was slowly deteriorating. Her loyal Lady Elizabeth was at her side, reading her bible to her and praying with her as Catherine could not attend mass that morning. Elizabeth feared for her mistress greatly. Her hair no longer held it's auburn shine, but was dark brown and filled with white hairs. Her once sparkling eyes now only held dread in them. Wrinkles covered her face and made her appear far older than she was. Stress had such effects on the queen, being exiled from court and forbidden to see her daughter.

Fortunately, smuggled letters had been transported between Catherine and Mary under the supervision of Sir Thomas More. Though More knew the consequences of his actions, before his imprisonment and after, he had made sure the two women would remain to have contact. The Duke of Warwick also partook in such actions, mostly during More's imprisonment. Both men were aided by Ambassador Chapuys and the three were allies of sorts, though they made it clear not to show such an alliance in public.

A page knocked on Catherine's door, Catherine calling out a weak "enter" which allowed the man to enter the room. Elizabeth rose from her position next to the queen, setting the Bible down on the night stand next to her. The page bowed and said, "My lady, Sir Thomas More has come to see you." Catherine was completely shocked to have heard such words, not knowing how it was that More could come visit her. She had been pleased at his release and pleased that Henry had not killed an innocent life. However, she wondered what had caused Henry to release his friend and not press him to take the oath.

More walked into the room, bowing respectful to the queen before kneeling at her bedside. "Majesty," he spoke, "Please forgive me for the intrusion. No one knows of my visit here, but I thought it would be my duty as your loyal servant to visit you after his majesty has pardoned my actions."

"Sir Thomas," Catherine muttered, nodding her head at him, "It pleases me that you are still with us and as surprised as I am about your visit, I am more confused as to why the king spared you such a horrible fate." More understood her speculation, he too not completely understanding the turn of events. He did know that it partially had to do with his niece.

Waiting for More's answer, Catherine then tried to raise herself on the bed, but unable to due to her weak body, she turned to Elizabeth for help. Her lady tried to pull her up onto the pillows, but unable to do so, More reached forward to help aid her. "Let me help," More spoke. Catherine nodded at the man, thankful for his efforts as he and Elizabeth helped Catherine settle her back against the pillows of her bed instead of lying down. She let out a small sound of pain and began coughing violently, More grimacing at the noise. It pained him to see his queen in such a state and he would gladly do anything to ease her pain.

"Thank you, Sir Thomas," Elizabeth muttered, returning to her position behind the pair. Catherine nodded at Elizabeth and turned her attention back to More.

"What happened Sir Thomas, to make my husband change his mind and not listen to that concubine?" Catherine questioned. Her Spanish accent thickened when she said concubine, More noting the hate in her tone. More shrugged his shoulders at first, unsure how to answer.

"I believe his majesty realized I was being punished for personal reasons rather than reasons of the crown. He knows that I put my conscience to God first and though I never have spoken out against the oath, I never took the oath because of my conscience. A king cannot be above God and, in his vanity, he realized such," More voiced. He truly believed such and the king saw his errors in his ways, but Catherine knew there was another reason.

"Though I agree with you Sir Thomas, I also think there is another reason, your niece." Catherine was straight forward in her words. She never was one to beat behind the bush, always direct and not hesitant at all. More nodded at her words, confirming her suspicions.

"I'm intrigued how your niece caught his majesty's attentions and has not lost them," Catherine revealed, a thoughtful look on her face.

"If you are assuming Grace is his mistress, that would be incorrect." More bore a protective look on his face. "She is anything but that," More continued.

Catherine smiled at his words. "Forgive me if you think I was making an accusation. Lady Grace has been my Mary's friend for years, even when his majesty declared Mary illegitimate. My Mary is not illegitimate, but will be Queen of England one day, as is her right." She was determined in her tone, unwavering. She spoke like a true king. "She has charmed my husband, hasn't she? You convinced her to bed him and manipulate the king to return to me?"

"Quite the contrary majesty." More chuckled. "She is quite stubborn. She refused immediately…Put up a fight actually from what I can remember. She considered our request a sin against God, even if the king took another woman as his wife and cast you aside. She is very much like you in her respect to God, though she differs in my beliefs sometimes."

"Well then," Catherine said. "Perhaps she has had other characteristics which charmed the king. Her quick tongue perhaps or her intelligence of which you are to blame," she uttered sarcastically. More gave out a chuckle at her words.

"Perhaps," More replied, "But she is much like her mother and for that I am grateful." Catherine nodded at her words.

"I remember Anne. She was one of Queen Elizabeth's ladies. She was most kind to me, even when others weren't." Catherine reminisced over her days as the dowager princess of Wales. She had felt so alone when Arthur had died and few English women had been kind to her while she remained away from court for seven years. When Henry's father died, Henry had been set to marry her and rescued her from her misery. Looking back on those days, she missed the simplicity of it all, before Henry fell for Anne Boleyn and exiled her to this dreadful place.

"Majesty, I urge you to keep faith. Grace is already pleading with the king to return Mary to court. He has already reconciled with her and now, it will only be a matter of time until she is restored to her proper status." A glint of hope appeared in Catherine's eyes at More's words. She reached for More's hand and took it in her own.

"I am glad Henry has made the choice to be a father to Mary, but it might be too late for me. God calls for me, I can feel it. But it brings me joy to know that your niece has reconciled Henry with his daughter. I am in her debt." Catherine was genuine in her speech, wondering how things would have went for Mary if Grace had not stayed by her side, if Grace had not existed at all. "Still," she continued, "I worry for your Grace. Not in how she is keeping the king's attention, but what will happen to her if she falls in love with the king. I will pray for her, as I fear more for her heart than for Henry's." More nodded at Catherine's words, also worried for his niece.

"All I know is that he has earned her respect, nothing more." More hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I fear she is gaining enemies now, Cromwell included. She has power over the king, though she is hesitant in exercising that power. She is wise. She only uses it when necessary. Not to harm others, not to eliminate her foes, but when it is needed for the welfare of others and the kingdom."

"Then she differs from I and from his majesty's concubine, for we used that power indefinitely," Catherine commented. "Then again, I was the daughter of Isabel and Ferdinand, and had support from other Catholic monarchies while Mistress Boleyn has the support of my enemies and the reformers."

"You still have their support and the support of the people my lady," More spoke, bringing a smile to Catherine's face.

"And now Mary has it," Catherine added. "God is calling me to him. My time on Earth is coming to an end and though I may have been wronged by his majesty, it is not his fault. He is still my husband and I his wife. He has been poisoned by those around him, but with your guidance and the influence of my niece, his majesty will be brought back to God again and will return to the holy Catholic Church." Catherine started coughing again, more forceful then before. It frightened More as she collapsed on her bed and turned to Elizabeth who brought a chalice of water to her lips. "Forgive me," Catherine said in a hoarse voice, "I cannot control these coughing fits of mine."

More grasped his queen's hand in his. "There is no need to apologize my lady. Forgive me for my intrusion. I shall leave you now and allow you to rest." He pulled out a letter from his coat and placed it on her lap. "Perhaps this letter from your daughter may raise your spirits."

"Bless you Sir Thomas. Your kindness is greatly appreciated," Catherine muttered, her voice still weak, but filled with joy.

"Of course your majesty. I shall try and return as soon as possible," More responded. More rose from his position next to the queen's bedside, bowing before turning and leaving the room. He was disheartened at the queen's health, but remained determined that even if the queen did die, that Henry would see the error of his ways, realizing his reformation was taking a turn for the worse.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello to all my news favs/followers: .1992, nights angels 96, Lady Shagging Godiva, throneofsunandsnow, cerysclark, sakura tsukiyomi lefey, and Ying and Yang-Balance.**

* * *

 **Ch. 20**

" _ **Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find."**_ _ **  
**_ _ **William Shakespeare,**_ _ **The Passionate Pilgrim**_

" _ **Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing higher, nothing stronger, nothing larger, nothing more joyful, nothing fuller, and nothing better in heaven or on earth."**_

 _ **Thomas à Kempis**_

* * *

 _ **Thornbury Castle 26 September 1535**_

Soon after Grace had received Anne's letter, she immediately packed her trunks and set off for Winchester. She was unnerved by the desperation in Anne's letter. The stress of being queen was getting to her and Grace feared for her, not so much that her enemies were swarming around her, but because of the threat of Anne's mind. She alerted Mary of her summons back to court and though she was upset at first, she realized Grace's position at court. She had had close to two weeks with her friend and that was more than enough for her, but she wished for more time.

However, Elizabeth would accompany Grace to Winchester rather than return to Mary to Hatfield. Grace desired it as it would help the queen with her stress. Lady Bryan protested of course, but as a favorite of the king and queen, and being entrusted with the care of Elizabeth at Thornbury, Lady Bryan thought it best to listen to Grace rather than continue to argue. After all, a surprise visit from the princess would bring her parents much joy and being separated from her mother for weeks at a time, Lady Bryan understood that perhaps Elizabeth needed to see her parents.

Items were packed for the trip to Winchester and Elizabeth's temporary household was alerted of the news to travel. The trip would take around three days total and Grace wanted to arrive at the palace a soon as possible. Horses were saddled, guards and courtiers alike mounting them as they prepared to take off within the next few moments. A carriage with the royal symbol engraved on it was placed in the courtyard. Lady Bryan, Elizabeth, and Grace would ride in the carriage to Winchester while Grace's sisters-in-law would ride in a separate one along with Grace's new lady, Katherine Carey, her step-niece and daughter of Mary Boleyn. Her other ladies would be chosen later on, with the approval of Anne.

As Lady Bryan and Elizabeth settled themselves in the carriage before they took off, Grace had one last conversation with Mary. Grace had pulled Mary off to the side so they could converse secretly and away from prying eyes, away from the spies of Cromwell if they were at court. "Mary, I have written to the king and have asked for your return to court." Mary was silent for a moment, grasping the situation in her mind. She didn't know how to feel about the prospect of returning to a court where her mother was no longer present and no longer recognized by queen. Seeing her hesitance, Grace said, "Please say something Mary." She held her friend's hands in hers, waiting for her answer.

"I don't know what to say Grace," Mary replied honestly. She had not thought Grace would ask her father such a thing, but she was wrong. Grace was pushing her limits, testing the king's love for her. And though Mary knew Grace did not yet love the king, she knew she would fall for him just as previous women had. But Grace was different as she had to constantly remind herself. Grace had not lain with her father, nor was she planning to anytime soon.

"I promise you would have your father's protection, as well as mine and my father's," Grace spoke, trying to reassure Mary. She knew exactly how Mary was fearing and that she felt the anxiety of returning to a court which had completely changed because of the reformation. She was most likely fearing for her safety and wondered who her enemies were at court, but Grace would protect her. "Say you'll be my lady. I know you don't deserve such a thing for I should be waiting on you, but it is just for formalities. Everyone will know you have been reconciled with your father and everyone will give you the respect you deserve."

Mary shook her head, casting a worried glance towards the carriages. "I don't know Grace." Grace sent her frown a disheartened look, but quickly sent her a quick small smile.

"Just think about it. I shall have my answer when I return to court and I will send you a letter immediately after I receive my it. Does that suit you?" Mary nodded her head at Grace's request. "I do not expect the king to allow you to return soon, but perhaps by Christmastide, he will be convinced." Mary shook her head again, pointing her head towards the departing courtiers.

"I think it's time for you to leave, Grace. I wish you safe travels on your journey." Grace nodded her head at Mary before enveloping her in a sisterly hug.

"I will miss you Mary," Grace spoke, wishing her friend could come with her. "Look for my letter when you return to Hatfield." She turned on her heel, walking towards the courtiers and entering the carriage. Poking her head out the opening, she sent Mary one last smile and a wave goodbye, a cheerful Elizabeth in her lap. Elizabeth also waved at her half-sister, not knowing what exactly had occurred between them a moment ago. Mary watched after their departing carriage, praying what Grace said was true, but also wary of what would happen if she returned to court.

* * *

 _ **Winchester Palace 29 September 1535**_

For three days Grace and her company had traveled through the English countryside to Winchester Palace, staying the night before at an inn so they only had to travel a few hours the next morning. The carriage ride had been pleasant enough, but Elizabeth had been restless. Several times Grace had to mount her own horse and let Elizabeth ride in the front of the saddle so she was entertained. And now, the company arrived at Winchester, Grace wearing a court outfit instead of her riding one.

The dress was made of metallic brocade in shades of brown and gold with patterns of geometric designs on the dress. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of pearl tassel earrings. Her hair was in its normal state, curls running down her back in spirals. Elizabeth also wore her court dress, a blue silk material with white flowers on the skirt. Blue highlighted her red hair, the Tudor trademark. She too had her hair loose, her red curls shining in the sun.

Grace exited the carriage first, turning back towards Elizabeth who reached her arms up to be carried. Grace took her in her arms, waiting for Lady Bryan to exit the carriage. She heard some commotion in the gardens, seeing that the court was enjoying an archery competition. Looking towards the noise, she spotted the king who was partaking in the festivities. The men had gathered around him while the women were in groups on the sidelines. Grace watched as he released an arrow from his bow which hit the target directly in the middle. The courtiers let out applauses and cheers at the king's skill, enjoying the game. No one had spotted her yet, except Ambassador Chapuys who lingered at the edge of the garden.

Turning towards Lady Bryan, she handed Elizabeth to her governess. "Please take the princess to her mother and alert her of her arrival. I will be there shortly." Lady Bryan nodded her head at Grace, heading inside the palace with Elizabeth on her hip.

Grace swiftly walked towards Chapuys, the ambassador bowing as she approached him. "My lady," he spoke, "I see you have finally graced the court with your beautiful presence." Grace smiled at his pun, taking his arm which he had offered for her to take. They began walking on the edge of the gardens, no one spotting Grace quite yet. "It has been quite dull without you here. His majesty has been restless."

"I am glad to be back excellency, though I am sure you exaggerate the king's behavior." Chapuys chuckled at her response.

"I promise your grace, I do not lie," Chapuys spoke.

"Nor do I when I say that I have spoken to the king about the Lady Mary's return to court." Grace's voice lowered to a whisper as she spoke to Chapuys, her eyes scanning the gardens for any eavesdroppers. Chapuys halted at her words, his eyes widening.

"You made such a request?" Chapuys questioned.

"Yes," Grace responded. "I thought it would be a suitable time as she has been reconciled with her father and you may tell the emperor such."

"The emperor will be in your debt, my lady." Grace shook her head at his words, sending Chapuys a frown.

"I think not your eminency, for I have heard from my uncle that the queen's health is deteriorating rapidly. He visited her and I am sure his notions as well as yours have now been confirmed." Chapuys face held a look of sadness. The pair began to walk again, nearing the courtiers so as not to raise suspicion.

"That is unfortunate," Chapuys spoke, "I had hoped the news was not true. I will be sure to make mention of this in my next letter to the emperor for I had hoped to hear different news." Grace nodded her head at his words, remaining silent as they walked past a group of courtiers. Many of them bowed or curtsied to her, some even muttering "my lady" or "Lady Neville" as she and Chapuys passed.

Instead of heading towards the main group, Grace and Chapuys continued walking along the edge of the gardens where some courtiers lingered. Grace watched as the king released another arrow, more yells erupting from the courtiers, specifically the men who were being quite rambunctious.

"I have told Mary of my request, but she was hesitant if she would return or not if the king allowed so," Grace revealed.

"As she should be. It is a different court from when she was a child. The concubine now reigns." Chapuys voice dripped with dislike as he spoke, Grace holding her tongue. She did not like when people spoke badly of Anne, but it was expected. "She has enemies now, specifically the Howards and the Boleyns who hope to dispose of her."

"Though I agree with you, if she returns to court she will not be targeted by her enemies. The king would be furious if anything happened to her and they know it." Grace realized that Mary was in danger, but if she returned to court, she would be untouchable for a time. No one would dare eliminate her.

"She threatens the succession according to some. Things can change if the king listens to others' poisonous words," Chapuys uttered, a serious look on his face.

"Mary will be protected by my father as well as the king. No one would dare touch her." Speaking such words, Grace saw her father across the gardens. He beckoned her to him, raising an eyebrow when he saw she was with Chapuys. "If you'll excuse me ambassador, I must speak with my father."

"Of course, my lady," Chapuys spoke, bowing to Grace as she strode towards her father. She walked across the gardens, realizing that she came into full view of the king. She made no move to look towards him nor to move towards him, instead acting as if she had not seen him at all.

Henry had been about to shoot another arrow when he saw Grace a ways behind his target, walking across the garden to greet her father. He lowered his arrow, watching the two embrace before they began speaking to one another. A grin appeared on Henry's face as he lowered his bow, handing it to a page before walking away from the courtiers praising him for his skill. Grace was now in full view of the court and the king, and the courtiers waited to see what would happen.

"Would you like to tell me what that was?" Warwick questioned his daughter. It seemed his daughter had gained an ally in the ambassador which was sure to garner attention.

"Nothing to be concerned about, father. I was merely making talk." Grace tried to act nonchalant about the situation, hoping her father would change the topic.

"With the imperial ambassador?" Warwick continued. He spotted the king behind Grace and quickly uttered, "We will speak of this later." Grace's brow creased in confusion at his rushed words, but then she saw him bow and she realized why his words were so hushed. She turned her head to see that the king was headed right towards them. However, before he could reach them, she mischievously smirked at her father, Warwick trying not to chuckle as she ignored the king's approach and walked away from her father into the hedged part of the garden.

Before Grace disappeared into the maze, she boldly looked into the king's eyes. Her eyes never wavered from his until she disappeared from his sight. She held him with her captivating gaze and Warwick knew it as the king walked directly pass him and after Grace into the secluded part of the gardens. He chuckled as he rose from his kneel, but the look Cromwell sent after the king unsettled him.

Henry followed Grace into the maze, her skirt disappearing behind a corner before he completely lost track of her. She was running, but slowed down just a touch as she rounded the corners so he could see her skirts and nothing else. It excited Henry, but also frustrated him as he wished to hold her in his arms and not chase her. Grace was enjoying herself. The king could hear her laughing which encouraged him to pick up his pace.

The next time Grace rounded a corner, Henry could see her fully, her hand drifting around the edge of the hedge and her green eyes staring back at him. He was under a spell as he chased after her, his pace increasing, but she was still out of reach. He heard her giggle once again as he came into an opening. There, in the middle of a green lawn, stood a fountain. Grace had placed herself on the other side of it, directly across from the king. Her cheeks were read from running, but she still held a dazzling smile on her face.

"How much longer are you going to make me chase you?" the king questioned.

"As long as it takes for you to catch me, majesty," Grace teased, taking a few more steps around the fountain. She was baiting him, waiting for him to pounce, but having just enough space in between them for her to escape easily. Henry chuckled at her response, his hands clasped behind his back as he too began to pace around the fountain.

"Well then, I trust you had a pleasant enough ride to the palace, seeing as I had no news of your travels here nor of your arrival," Henry spoke.

"I thought you would like the surprise," Grace retorted, raising an eyebrow at Henry.

"Immensely," Henry spoke in a husky tone, making Grace blush. Grace was so occupied in her conversation with the king that she had no clue how close he was to her or that she was nowhere near an exit in the hedges. She went to look at the path in front of her, her eyes darting back to the king when she realized her predicament. She went to run, but he was too quick for her. She giggled as he lunged for her, catching her skirts in his hands and wrapping his arms around her middle.

"Now that I've caught you, what's my prize?" Henry questioned, making Grace laugh even more as he strewed kisses on her neck. He held her back to his front, one hand holding her hair back as he whispered in her ear while the other pressed her towards him as it draped across her stomach and his hand held onto her waist.

"Hmmm," Grace muttered, "I think you already have it." She turned in Henry's arms, facing him with her hands pressed against his chest. Henry captured her chin with his hand, lifting her head up so she would look directly in his eyes.

"How I've missed these eyes of yours," Henry whispered to Grace, slowly pressing his lips against hers. Grace let him and Henry wrapped his arms around her, pressing her closer to him. He pulled away, their noses touching as he rubbed his face against hers.

"Your majesty," Henry and Grace heard, the voice interrupting their private moment. Henry remained where he was, his arms around Grace and his face pressed against hers. However, Grace tensed, her eyes sharp as she stared down at the person who invaded upon their privacy. Master Cromwell appeared from the maze, his eyes dark as he spotted Grace in the king's arms. Her nostrils flared and her gaze narrowed at him. Though Cromwell's glare remained the same, internally he was terrified. Here stood the king, fully immersed in a woman who threatened his control over the king, and ignoring Cromwell's presence for the woman. "Majesty," he spoke again, distracting the king.

"What is it Master Cromwell?" the king questioned, remaining in the same position. Grace turned her attention back to the king, nuzzling her face against his own and blatantly rubbing it in Cromwell's face.

"I must speak with your majesty…alone," Cromwell continued.

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Lady Grace," Henry spoke, surprising both Cromwell and Grace. Grace smiled up at the king who cradled her face in the palms of his hands. "Well?" he asked, turning his face towards Cromwell, Grace's face still in his hands.

"Majesty, I must inform you that Sir Thomas More has visited the dowager princess at Kimbolton…" Cromwell responded, making Grace's deadly glare fall on him. She tensed again, waiting for the king's reaction. Meanwhile, Cromwell felt victorious inside, knowing full well that the king would be outraged at such a thing. However, the king responded unlike how both had thought he would.

"And why would I not know this, Cromwell?" the king said. He stepped away from Grace, releasing her from his grip, and stalked towards Cromwell, his rage showing little by little. "Do you think that I do not know what goes on in my realm?" Henry continued, his voice raising. "Do you think I am incapable of keeping my subjects in line?" Henry was practically screaming at Cromwell by now, Grace's being swelling fear as well as contentment at seeing such a sight. Cromwell was being reprimanded for basically snitching on her uncle, but apparently, the king knew otherwise.

Henry suddenly grabbed Cromwell by the collar, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. Grace flinched at the action, but said nothing. She had never seen the king quite so angry and thought best not to interfere with the king's reprimanding of Cromwell. Besides, he deserved it for meddling in her family's affairs. "Do not think to turn me against Sir Thomas for he informs me of his actions whether you believe that or not. I suggest you focus on your tasks in my realm that I order you to observe and not others that are my business alone." Henry shoved Cromwell away forcefully, veering his path back to Grace and holding out his hand for her to take. She took his hand willingly, sending a final deadly look back towards Cromwell as Henry lead her away from the vile man.

Henry stalked through the gardens, pulling Grace behind him. She remained silent, too scared and too cautious not to say anything about what she had just seen. Henry continued walking until he reached the opening in the hedges which led back to the main part of the garden and where the courtiers were all conversing an partaking in the archery. His grip on her hand tightened, Grace feeling his anger as he squeezed and loosened his hand over hers. He halted abruptly, Grace almost running into the back of him. She caught herself before she did, letting out a squeak at the movement. Henry let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his noise with his other hand. He turned to Grace, his anger fading when he saw her innocent expression.

"I am sorry you had to see that," Henry spoke. "Cromwell seems to think he can meddle in every affair related to me. I have no privacy, nothing to myself. The wonderful life of a king…" He sounded cynical as he talked, making Grace frown.

Grace reached for his face, holding it gently and running her fingers across his face. "Do not talk that way, majesty, and there is no reason to apologize. Mr. Cromwell certainly stepped out of line." Henry placed his hands over hers, lifting one so he could press a kiss to her palm.

"I told you to call me Henry, my love," Henry spoke, Grace smiling at him, but shaking her head. It felt odd to call him by his name and not "majesty." "Did you know of your uncle's visit?" he suddenly questioned, a curious look in his eye.

Grace was not hesitant, but spoke directly to him. She was not afraid to tell him. "Not until after his visit. He sent me a letter informing me of his actions." Grace was quiet as she spoke, looking at the ground demurely. She did not want to test the king's anger for keeping such news from him. She did not seek to hide things from him, but wished to tell him at an appropriate time and now seemed like the time to tell him the truth.

"I want you to always tell me the truth, to always be honest with me," Henry conveyed to Grace. He genuinely believed she should do so. "And I shall do the same of you if you ask anything of me." Grace nodded her head, glad that the two of them had come to a consensus about being truthful with each other.

"My father told me that truth is essential to a bond, but that two people's relationship with God comes first, that we must seek God's guidance. Do you agree?" Grace asked. She wondered how he felt about the topic, concerning the fact that he had broken with the Church and made himself supreme head of the Church of England.

"Yes, my angel. My innocent, sweet angel." Henry leaned down to kiss Grace once more, his eyes dark as he kissed her. He pulled away to press a final kiss to her forehead before they emerged from the hedges of the garden. All eyes were on them when they emerged, many of them unkind as they glared at Grace. She paid them no mind, holding onto the king's arm as he escorted her back to his position in front of the target. The courtiers around them all nodded as they approached, saying "majesty" or "Lady Neville" as they passed. It seemed that they knew to acknowledge her now or they would face the king's wrath.

"Perhaps we should see Lady Grace's skill with a bow," Henry spoke to his court, sending Grace a cheeky grin. Some of the courtiers laughed, not thinking Grace had any skill whatsoever. They overlooked her because of her gender as women usually were not well accustomed to shooting arrows. Henry winked at Grace as he handed her his own bow, Grace sending a feisty look at him as he centered the attention on her. Though bigger than her own, she had practiced with her brothers' bows countless number of times and was used to the bigger size of the instrument. She strung an arrow onto the bow, her left hand touching her face as she pulled back into position. The feathers of the arrow touched her face as well as the string of the bow. Her right hand held the main part of the bow firmly and she let in a breath as she prepared to release the arrow.

As the king watched Grace, he couldn't help but compare her to Artemis, the Greek goddess of the moon and the hunt. She was a skilled huntress, so graceful with a bow. He watched as she released the arrow, her own hitting the target and splitting his arrow in two. There was complete silence as the courtiers gasped in awe. Warwick, who was watching from a distance, chuckled at the scene, Chapuys also doing so from his own position.

Henry looked at Grace with a look of pride on his face, all attention on her. He clapped at her display, the courtiers joining him. "Only you could have managed such a feat," he spoke, stepping towards her and drawing him to her. Grace was startled for a moment, releasing the bow from her hand in surprise. He had never shown her affection in public before, but now it seemed he had forgotten formalities. Henry had one hand placed on her back, the other holding her hand in his as he lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. Grace was worried he would try something else, but he didn't. Henry released her from his hold, remembering himself and the courtiers around him.

"Majesty," Grace spoke, curtsying to the king. "If you'll excuse me, the queen is expecting me."

"Of course," Henry replied, stepping aside and motioning his hand towards the castle. Grace walked past him, the king bowing his head as she passed. His eyes followed as she departed, Grace casting a glance behind her to see Henry's blue eyes watching her. She smiled, walking out of view and into Winchester. During that time, Henry's gaze was fixed on her and her alone. It was a different expression, one that made many courtiers look between him and Grace. It was if he could not hear or see anything at all, except for Grace as she departed, her brown curls billowing behind her.

Henry turned back to the archery competition, paying no mind to Cromwell who had reappeared from the gardens. Cromwell was wise not to approach the king. However, he was fuming from his encounter with the king and Grace, and glared at her back as she left the gardens. To him, she was an obstacle in his path and in his mind, he had to make the king rid of her somehow. And looking around at the courtiers, he believed he had spotted his answer.

* * *

Grace quickly made her way to Anne's chambers, striding through Winchester with the help of a page. Courtiers within the castle also bowed or curtsied to her as she passed, knowing she was the favorite of the king and queen. Once she had reached the queen's chambers, Nan opened the door for her, smiling. "Majesty, the Lady Grace is here," she said, moving from the doorway so Grace could enter. Anne was now in her view, smiling broadly as she took in Grace's appearance. Though she was smiling, Grace could tell something was off about the queen.

"Lady Grace," Anne spoke, rising from her sitting position.

"Majesty," Grace said, curtsying to Anne. She rose from her curtsy, Anne suddenly embracing her.

"I must speak with you in private, immediately," Anne whispered into her ear, taking Grace's hand and pulling her behind her into her bedchamber. She shut the curtains behind her for privacy, no trusting any of her ladies. Now Grace could fully take in Anne's countenance. She had dark circles around her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping, that much Grace could tell. She looked pale and strained, the usual glint in her eye now a shadow. She appeared fatigued, as if her strength was leaving her. Grace couldn't understand, but wrapped her arms around Anne.

"Are you well?" Grace asked, concerned for Anne. She brushed her hand over her forehead, feeling the warmth on her fingers.

Anne nodded. "Yes," she replied, "I'm more than well, though I feel the opposite." Grace was worried. She was pale, so very pale that Grace worried she had taken with some illness. Anne let out a giggle, surprising Grace. She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh Grace," Anne replied with some newfound enthusiasm, "I am with child." Grace was overcome with emotions. She was not only elated, but it also stung to hear such news. Yes, Anne was Henry's wife, but she still felt bothered in a way. She knew that the couple had returned to their normal bed patterns, but she hadn't quite believed such things. Now reality set in and she cast aside her internal dread for Anne's sake. She was happy for Anne, truly.

"Majesty, that is wonderful news," Grace replied, reaching her hands out to Anne and a grin breaking out on her face. "Have you told the king?"

"Not yet," Anne stated, moving one hand to rest on her belly. "It's too early to tell him. I'm only a few weeks along. I want to be sure. I haven't told anyone yet, not even my family."

"Well, I am honored you told me first," Grace muttered. She stared at Anne's stomach, pressing one of her own hands to it. "You have the next king of England in your belly," Grace spoke confidently. Anne looked down at the floor, uneasy for a moment.

"Let's pray that it is, for my fate rests with this child," Anne spoke darkly. Anne's eyes became cloudy, looking as if she were about to cry. "I am fearful Grace, so very fearful that this child isa girl or that I will not carry it to term."

Immediately, Grace's arms went around Anne, leading her to her bed so that she could sit for a moment. "Shhhh…" Grace whispered, trying to calm her fears. "Do not say such things, majesty. You should not assume such. You are strong and I am sure you will give the king a son." A few tears strayed down Anne's face, but Grace wiped them from her mistress' face. "Are you tired?" she asked. Anne nodded her head, feeling the fatigue from the first few weeks of pregnancy. She had not yet had morning sickness, but her body felt drained. "Perhaps you should lay down," Grace suggested. Anne said nothing as Grace pulled back the covers from her bed and looked expectantly towards her. Anne gave in, turning around so Grace could undo the laces on her dress. Grace helped her undress, leaving the queen in a nightgown. She climbed into bed, settling under the covers as Grace tucked her.

Grace went to leave, but Anne reached for her hand. "Stay with me," Anne pleaded. "I don't want to be alone." She looked so scared as she looked up at Grace and Grace felt nothing but sympathy for the queen. She sent a small smile at Anne laying down on the bed next to her. Anne turned on her side, the two women looking at each other as they rested. "I used to do this with my sister when we were little. How I miss those simpler times." Anne remembered how it felt to be a child then. No worries, just her and Mary against the world. But now, it was her against the whole of England.

"Rest your majesty," Grace spoke, seeing the queen's creased forehead and the blank stare in her eyes. Grace knew she was thinking too much and that would make her paranoid if she continued such behavior. Anne nodded, reaching her hand for Grace's as she closed her eyes. Grace held the queen's warm hand in hers, looking at their clasped hands. She was worried for Anne, worried for her well-being and the stress of queenship. She also worried for herself, how close she was to the queen and how much the king desired her. She could not choose between either, but if Anne ever asked her to step away, she would. As Grace was consumed by her thoughts, she too fell asleep from the exhaustion of court.

* * *

That evening, court was in full swing. The king sat at the high table, Anne at his side. Grace sat with her father and brothers at one of the lower tables, though Anne had wanted her to sit with her. Grace had refused, wanting to avoid a confrontation between her and Cromwell. He sat on the king's right, whispering to him about politics and others things no doubt.

Meanwhile, Grace was navigating her way around the main hall. As she passed by courtiers, they either bowed or curtsied to her. Ambassadors did so as well after seeing the king's display of affection that afternoon. Grace's importance had apparently increased in court just because of a simple gesture.

Walking back towards her father, Grace realized she would have to ass Lord Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk, Anne's father and uncle. Instead of turning around and finding another way, she plastered a blank look on her face and kept her composure. She would not yield to Boleyn. She would not show her dislike of him. She went to pass by him, nodding her head respectfully as he was the father of the queen. "Lord Wiltshire," Grace spoke, curtsying to Lord Boleyn. He sneered at her, Grace ignoring his treatment of her. She went to pass, but he grabbed her arm harshly, whispering into her ear.

"I would be careful if I were you. The king has raised you high, but I can make sure that you will fall." Grace yanked her arm from Boleyn's grip, scowling at him. "I will make sure you regret ever coming to court to dangle yourself in front of the king."

"You forget, my lord, that it is also the queen who has raised me. And it would do you well to remember that if she falls, I fall with her. I am loyal to the queen, no matter what you and your family think," Grace spoke through gritted teeth. "I came on behalf of my uncle, not the king. Surely you can understand family loyalty above everything else. I think it would be wise for you to remember that you too could also have a far fall from favor. I'm not the only one who counts on his majesty's good graces."

The argument ended at that, Boleyn not knowing how to respond to her words. He glared at her, dismissing her with a nod of his head. Grace hurried past him, trying to find her father among the crowds. "You underestimate her Thomas," Norfolk spoke from the shadows. He appeared behind Boleyn, his eyes wondering to Grace and then back to his niece. "She is more useful than you think." He sipped from his wine chalice thoughtfully, Boleyn raising an eyebrow at his opinion. "I'm merely stating the obvious. She's made herself clear. She is loyal to Anne, and therefore loyal to our family. An alliance between the Boleyns, Howards, and Nevilles would be unthinkable. We would be unstoppable…invincible even." He eyed the courtiers, stopping on a few. "It would put our enemies in their place."

* * *

More and Warwick had viewed the entire scene between Grace and Boleyn, watching from the balcony that overlooked the floor below. "I worry Thomas. I worry that Grace may be getting ahead of herself," Warwick relayed to More, his face creased with anxiousness. She wondered what transpired between Boleyn and his daughter, worried he might have to step in. But Grace held her ground, proving that she was capable of taking care of herself.

"Why do you think that?" More questioned. He eyed his niece as she walked through the courtiers, his stare lingering on Henry as he spotted the king gazing thoughtfully at his niece.

"Chapuys sees an ally in her. If one of the ambassadors does so, many will follow," Warwick voiced.

"And what harm is there in that?" Warwick was confused at his brother-in-law's words, gesturing for him to continue. He couldn't possibly understand how More would let his niece be in danger. More further explained, "Perhaps it would be favorable Richard. She is a diplomat. She gives the king her opinions. He is less likely to go to war if Grace whispers such in his ear. He is more likely to maintain peace, more likely to return to the Catholic faith."

Warwick shook his head. "I fear it is too late for that. Cromwell has him under his thumb."

"But Cromwell is unnerved by our Grace. He despises her above all others." More truly believed Grace could untangle Cromwell's control of the king, though she couldn't see it herself quite yet. And with Anne's help, they would be unstoppable.

"Then Grace has made herself a powerful enemy," Warwick spoke with dread. His fatherly protectiveness made him worry for his daughter's safety, not necessarily in regard to Cromwell, but in regards to the king. After all, if Cromwell tried to convince the king to discard Grace, would he? Would he break his daughter's heart?

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors and for this specific chapter, I have looked into** **Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 9, August-December 1535.**

 **A/N: Hello everyone! Kind of a filler chapter, but a lot is happening! Hello to all my news favs/followers: BlueAzrael17, daytimesun, Zoie10135, EspressoPatronum13, Loverofcreepythings, Natalya Rose, killer4853, deadgummiegirl, Lady of Harrenhal, annekeogh, forever fanfiction1999, justwonderingwhoiam, French Damsel, Bronnie929, PuckForPresident, Secretkeeper2016, Wulf47, donutcomeforme, fco ala, cutiepie102, Rose Nieman-Black-Targaryen, and ShizukaRen-Hime. Special thanks to KiwiRoses and Guest for reviewing. Please put a name so I can identify you as something other than Guest :)**

* * *

 **Ch. 21**

 _ **Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis [All things change, and we change with them]**_

 _ **~Emperor Lothar I**_

* * *

 _ **Southhampton Castle 31 September 1535**_

Court had moved from Winchester Palace to Southhampton Castle, Gloucestershire to Southhampton Hampshire. Cromwell was still seething over his interaction with the king, watching Grace attentively whenever she was around the royal couple. Anne and she had seemed closer than usual, something he had caught on to instantly. The two women had been inseparable since their reunion two days ago and it worried him. Their alliance threatened his reformation and the progress he had made with the king. If they began to speak to the king about his behavior, he was sure they would manipulate him to believe anything they said. However, both Anne and Grace knew the king was truly a Catholic and that he had created the Church of England to separate himself from the Pope and so that he could obtain a divorce to marry Anne. He also wished to rid his realm of the corruption evident under the Pope. Cromwell was sure he could convince the king to change the aspect of religion in his realm, but now, it seemed the future was unknown.

Cromwell currently was with the king in his chambers, going further into depth about the progress of the reformation, specifically concerning Sir Thomas Leigh's efforts. He also wished to discuss foreign affairs with the Emperor and King Francis. "Mr. Cromwell I would like to start off with the matters regarding the Emperor and King Francis in regard to their relationships with myself. Bishop Gardiner will be sent to France as an ambassador to convey to King Francis my consideration of faithful friendship and desire of amity when my proceedings of our reformation have been exposed to slander and that the bishops of Rome have been false, untrue, and malicious in every way."

Cromwell shook his head, agreeing with his majesty. "Yes majesty. I am sure Gardiner will bring back news regarding the king's true intentions, and whether he wishes to make advantage of your affairs for his interests with the Pope and the Emperor."

"Yes, the Emperor has made clear that he is at the Pope's disposal and that he will declare war upon my realm as need be. We must avoid this at all costs Mr. Cromwell as the corruption of the church still has its hold on many of the great princes of Europe and I wish you to write this to Gardiner." Cromwell, who stood in front of the king, placed a blank piece of parchment before him, a quill ready in his hand as he waited for his majesty to speak. The king spoke feely now, watching as Cromwell wrote a simple 'Bishop Gardiner' at the top of the parchment and began the letter with 'His Majesty is.' "I am willing to join with Francis in raising an army. I will contribute one-third of the expense of an army to invade Italy and recover the rights of the French in Genoa and Milan, and if you can induce him to begin the war in the Low Countries, I will be content to contribute 300,000 crowns. Of course, Francis must concede not to enter into peace with the Pope or the Emperor without my consent, that Francis must come to my aid if the Pope or Emperor invade England, and that he must seek to revise the treaty with Flanders. The Emperor intends to secure the whole of Christendom for himself and I intend to halt his plan."

"Of course your majesty," Cromwell responded, feeling quite satisfied with his majesty's pursuit of supporting his reformation to Francis. Surely the king of France would understand Henry's predicament with the Pope and Emperor. Henry would not be confined to the corruption of the church and as Francis had once enjoyed the company of the queen, he hoped he would deter in his stubbornness and relent. After all Anne had done for France, trying to secure treaties between Henry and Francis, he owed her. Many had heard Francis refer to Anne as Aphrodite, stating that he believed the goddess to be golden haired until he met the beautiful Anne. But when the whole of Europe was involved, it was another matter entirely. If the Pope could threaten Henry with excommunication, could he do the same to Francis if he supported Henry and his proceedings?

With the topic of Francis, the Emperor, and the Pope seemingly over, Cromwell turned the subject to the current standing of the reformation. "Majesty, if I may, I would like to discuss with you the letters that have been transcribed between myself and Sir Leigh in regard to his visitations of the northern monasteries." The king waved his hand, taking a sip of wine from his chalice as the men continued with the affairs of the realm one after one. "Sir John Price has accompanied Sir Leigh during your majesty's progress and they have visited Worcester, Malvern, Malmesburt, Bradstock, Stanley, Lacock Abbey, Bruton Abbey, Wilton, Wherwell, Witney, and Reading. Apparently, the vicar of Halifax has deemed that your majesty will take all from the church meaning the Pope and the Catholic Church, and not your majesty's Church of England." Henry looked livid at the statement, his hands bundling into fists as they lay on the table he sat at. His blue eyes grew darker and his forehead appeared to have sweat glinting off of it. Cromwell continued in his speech, pleased with the king's reaction. "Concerning the Bishops would be in hand towards the inhibitions, Sir Leigh has also thought good to show his reasons for making them in that manner. He informed them that jurisdiction of their dioceses were received from the king, not from the Pope. And that if they looked to God for jurisdiction, that it is shown in Scripture. He also explained the fact that if the Bishops should exercise their jurisdiction, that it would be according to the canon laws which are profligate out of his majesty's realm and that if they choose to challenge this jurisdiction, it is clear that they would refer jurisdiction to belong to someone other than your majesty."

"So the bishops still believe my jurisdiction to be false and the jurisdiction of the Pope to be true? After all I have done? After I have tried to deliver them from the corruption of the Pope they would seek to defy my laws and pledge their allegiance to the fucking Pope?" the king yelled with rage.

"Majesty, Sir Leigh has said no such thing in his letters regarding the bishops reactions, but I am sure they are loyal to your majesty…"

Henry interrupted Cromwell as he slammed his hands down on the table. "You said you had this handled Mr. Cromwell, but I am very unsure of that now."

"Majesty, I promise I am handling this issue with the utmost care and seek only to advance your majesty's reformation," Cromwell replied. "I have another letter from Sir Richard Layton describing the poverty of Durforde Abbey in Sussex. He was quite surprised at the condition of the abbey, deciding that it was the poorest he had ever seen and that it should be called 'Dirtford' instead due to its condition. The abbot was far in debt and the abbey in great decay. Layton licensed him to repair to me for the liberty of himself and his brethren. He continued on to Chichester and Waverley, both too poor to lodge him. He will travel to Arundel college, then to Lewes and Battle, and Kent. The last visit shall be to the monastery of St. Salvator, Barmondesay, St. Mary Overy's, and the hospital of St. Thomas in Southwark. Additionally, Sir Thomas Audeley has conveyed to me the books of Bath and Winchester for the valuation of the spiritualities. Only 12 books have yet come into Sir Audeley's possession. While in Waverley, he licensed the abbot of Waverley, the bearer, to repair unto myself for liberty to survey his husbandry, in which the wealth of his monastery consists. He also wishes to express that he will not dare come to your majesty's presence till he knows your pleasure and that he has longed to see your grace. He sends his humble recommendations to both your majesty and the queen as well."

"Well then, I am glad for such loyal servants in my realm as Leigh and Audeley seem to be," Henry pronounced, his anger subsiding for the moment. He was content with Audeley's findings as they indicated the poor conditions of the abbeys that had once held jurisdiction under the Pope. Henry was convinced this was a sign that his reformation was needed.

It was then that a page entered announcing the presence of the person Cromwell despised the most. "The Duchess of Gloucester your majesty," the page exclaimed, Grace walking past him into the king's temporary study. The king smiled at her entrance immediately while Cromwell scowled at her appearance. She wore a dress of light green, gold lace where the fabric of the dress covered her breasts. The dress was simple yet elegant and displayed her status as a duchess effortlessly. She wore her hair half up in a braided style while the rest of her chocolate curls tumbled down her back. The only jewelry she wore was her golden cross necklace and pearl earrings.

Grace lowered herself into a curtsy, her eyes on the floor as protocol demanded, but when she reached the position, her eyes bore directly into the king's. She muttered a simple, "majesty" before the king beckoned her to stand.

"Grace," the king spoke, momentarily distracted from Cromwell and his affairs. "Come here." Grace simply smiled at the king, coming to stand next to him as he remained seated in his chair. He took her hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to it. "How are you?" he questioned.

"I am well majesty," Grace replied, intertwining her hand in his before he could release her hand. She curiously looked at the papers before him, wondering what the two men were discussing. "May I ask your majesty what these are?" she asked.

Cromwell raised an eyebrow at Grace's request, a retort stuck in his throat. But the king spoke before he could utter a word. "Matters concerning the religious houses," Henry replied, "Nothing to worry yourself about."

"The queen has told me that some of the religious houses have had good reports. Will your majesty allow them to remain if they recognize your majesty as the head of the church?" Grace turned to Cromwell, her green eyes challenging him. She was baiting him and he knew it.

Cromwell fell for it. "Surely the duchess should not be present while we discuss such things, majesty," Cromwell declared. He was immensely worried at what Grace would say next. He did not want her protesting against his efforts or suggesting other ideas to the king.

"If the duchess wishes to ask me a question, she is allowed to do so Master Cromwell." Henry's dark tone surprised Cromwell, thinking his majesty would understand that a woman should not interfere in such affairs. After all, the king hadn't really discussed the matter with the queen, but with her family members, again pointing to the fact that only men should deal with politics. Henry turned to face Grace, sending Cromwell an irritated glare. "I haven't decided on that matter yet, sweetheart." Cromwell cringed at the loving tone the king had in his voice, disgusted at the display of affection.

"My father has told that Sir Thomas Leigh and Sir John Price are conducting the surveys of the religious houses." Henry nodded his head at Grace's words, sorting through the papers as he read through them. "May I speak freely?" she questioned. Again, Cromwell wondered where she was getting out, making him agitated. Henry nodded his head, giving her permission to continue. "I have heard that many complaints have been made against Sir Leigh in regard to his conduct during the visitations of the religious houses."

"Is that so?" Henry spoke, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the papers in front of him. Cromwell noted the slight anger in his voice and the way the king suddenly became tense. "How exactly has Sir Leigh been behaving Master Cromwell?"

"As a servant of your majesty, I am sure he is behaving as his station suggests and with all the respect due to your majesty," Cromwell iterated. A slight smirk appeared on Grace's face as she took in Cromwell's nervous countenance.

"Quite the contrary your majesty. Apparently, Sir Leigh has taken advantage of his position which Master Cromwell deemed him worthy to have. I'm sure it's just a slight mistake. After all, some men do not show their true character during first impressions." Cromwell could hardly believe what Grace was saying, acting as if it were his fault the man was acting so and belittling him in front of the king. His blood boiled as she spoke, each word out of her mouth directly the king's annoyance at him. Grace unlocked her hand with the king's, instead moving behind the king's chair and resting her hands on his shoulders as she stood there. Her eyes held a look of victory in them as she sealed Cromwell's fate for the moment.

"Get out," the king spoke, his eyes dark as he stared at Cromwell. "I am done speaking to you."

"Majesty, but we…" Cromwell protested.

"I said leave." The king's tone was low and sharp, signaling that there would be no objection to his request. "I wish to speak to Lady Neville alone now." He waved his hand, dismissing Cromwell as if he were unimportant for the moment. Grace's words had made Cromwell look as if he was hiding things from the king, that he just failed to inform him of crucial details, or that he was unaware of the conduct of the visitations. Cromwell could only bow to the king before he turned on his heels and exited the room. He was practically fuming that Grace Neville had just embarrassed him like that in front of the king, making him look unfit to run the country alongside the king.

With Cromwell gone, the king's attention now turned solely to Grace. He let out a sigh of frustration, leaning his head against the back of the chair while Grace squeezed his shoulders in encouragement. "He seeks to hide things from me as if I'm a child. The man is insufferable," Henry said.

If that is so, then why does your majesty put so much trust in him? In one man?" Grace questioned. She lowered herself down so that he chin lay on Henry's shoulder, her arms placed on his front. The question reminded Henry of one asked some years ago, when Anne asked him why he put so much trust in Thomas Wolsey. He made him remember how much simpler his life was when Wolsey was his chancellor.

"Because he has my interests at heart," Henry responded in a thoughtful tone. He turns his head, making Grace turn hers at well so they could make eye contact. "Besides, without him I wouldn't have come so far in my reformation." Henry places a soft kiss on Grace's lips, one of his hands reaching her for hers while the other held the back of her head while they kissed.

"I doubt that your majesty," Grace replied, her nose rubbing against his.

"Henry…" the king whispered. "I told you to use my name when we are alone."

"I know." Grace pressed her lips against Henry's again, smiling when she pulled away. "I have another question for you."

Henry eyed her curiously. "About what?" Grace pulled herself out of the king's embrace, walking around the king before kneeling next to his chair.

"About the Lady Mary…" Grace said. Henry's eyes lit up at the mention of his eldest daughter. Moving his arm, he lifted up Grace's chin in his calloused grip.

"What about the Lady Mary?" Henry asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Have you considered my proposal? That she may be brought to court?" Grace questioned. Henry could see a look of hope in green orbs. He rubbed his thumb along her jawline, thinking.

"Grace, I cannot bring her to court under the circumstances. She has yet to sign the oath and acknowledge Anne as queen."

"Henry, you know why she will not do so. As you showed mercy to my uncle, can you find it in your heart to let this go? She is your daughter and though her stubbornness insults you, she acts in such a way because of her mother." Henry let out a sigh, releasing his grip on Grace's chin and rubbing his hand against his forehead in frustration. It's not that he didn't want to bring Mary to court. The problem laid in her refusal and her protests against him. Yes, he had reconciled with Mary, but he could not allow her in the public eye until she submitted to his will.

"I will think about it," Henry muttered. "But no more asking." It was a warning, but Grace knew not to test his patience with this.

"You promise?" Grace asked, her voice signaling that she would obey him, but also making sure he would truly think about Mary being brought back to court.

"Yes," Henry spoke, glad that the discussion about Mary was over. He stood from his chair, raising Grace up to her feet from her kneeling position and pulling he close. "Now, I have a present for you," he said in a mischievous tone, "But you have to close your eyes." He lowered his head, kissing her neck lightly before making a trail of kisses across the top of her breasts. Grace gave out a slight giggle, feeling the king's hands against her back as he pressed her against his body. He raised his head, kissing her again before he made a pointed look at her. Grace nodded her head and closed her eyes, feeling the king's body leave hers as he walked across the room. She could hear him pull out a parcel from a hidden area, the package making a rustling sound as it brushed against the curtains.

"You may open your eyes now," Henry spoke, Grace opening her eyes to a jeweled box which had been placed on the table before her.

"It's beautiful," Grace muttered, fingering the outside of the wooden box. It was decorated with gold enamel and covered in pearls in golden pieces. "You did not have to get me anything Henry. I don't deserve it."

"Yes you do." Henry approached Grace, embracing her from behind and kissing her cheek gently. "Open it," he urged her, an impatient look on his face. Though it wasn't as if he was frustrated with her. It was more like he was excited to see her reaction to his gift. Remaining in the king's arms, Grace opened the box, a gasp escaping from between her lips as she held her hand to her mouth. It was a beautiful headdress, a crown some people would say. It was gold in color, the material crafted in such a way that looked like leaves intertwined. Emeralds were set in the middle of the crown and other various places, the color matching the exact shade of Grace's eyes.

"I can't accept this your majesty," Grace all but whispered. She was in such a state of shock that she could barely talk. Henry merely wrapped his arms around her middle, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"I had it made especially for you. Who else am I to give it to?" Henry spoke into her ear. Grace turned in his arms, laying her forehead against his.

"Your courtiers will talk." Grace's statement was blunt and too the point. She knew that if she wore this gift, rumors were spread. She hadn't dared to wear the first one other than the time he placed it around her neck and now he was presenting her with another extravagant gift.

"Let them talk. Let them spread rumors about how you have captured my heart." Henry took Grace's face in his hands, making her look directly into his eyes. "I want them to look at you and be jealous that you are mine and mine alone."

"Majesty…" Grace stuttered. She was absolutely speechless. When the king spoke to her in such a way, she was often lost for words. She could only let a noise of surprise when the king pulled her into a fierce kiss, the action sudden, but welcomed all the less. He left her breathless as he kissed her hard and passionate. Their tongues danced together, Henry exerting his dominance over Grace as he pressed her firmly against him. She could tell he was hard, wanting her as he backed her up against the table. He picked her up with such eagerness, placing her on the table and pulling her skirts up over her thighs so he could press his hands to the soft flesh of her thighs. He stepped between her legs, Grace now feeling exactly how strong his desire for her was. However, he kept his hands on her thighs, not venturing any further as he did not want to cross any boundaries.

Grace's hands went immediately around the king's neck, wanting him as close to her as possible. She had missed him while recovering and this was the first time they had had a moment alone in the days she had returned to court. And the king felt such a strong wave of desire that he hadn't felt for such a long time. He felt how he did in his youth, impulsive and impatient, and it all had to do with Grace. He reached for the laces on the back of her gown, desperately untying the insufferable strings and pulling the top fabric of her dress away from her body to reveal her breasts to him. Grace went to cover the top half of her body, but Henry grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the table.

"You will do no such thing," Henry whispered seductively, kissing the skin between Grace's neck and shoulder. "Let me look at how beautiful you are." Grace shuddered at his voice, the husky tone causing her to feel butterflies in her stomach. Henry continued his path, kissing the skin on her shoulder before lazily drawing his tongue across her collarbone and burying his face between her breasts. Grace moaned at the sensation, feeling the roughness of his beard as he latched his mouth onto her rosy buds and sucked at the skin. She drew her fingers through his hair as he drew his mouth back up to hers, his hands running up and down the smooth skin of her back. He pressed his lips against hers again, this time more gently and less demanding before he pulled away and buried his face in her neck. Grace held him in her arms as he sighed heavily, Henry holding on to her as well as they caught their breath.

Henry let out a chuckle at their situation, raising his face so he could see Grace's flushed complexion and the dazed look in her eyes. Grace let out a laugh as well, placing a final kiss on Henry's lips before she began to readjust her dress. Henry at first had a frown on his face as she covered herself, but the admonishing look she gave him made wiped the look right off his face.

"Henry…" Grace spoke, "As much as you would like to dally with me all day, we are in your study and you are supposed to be focusing on your affairs." She gave him a slight nudge, Henry backing up to allow her room to slide off the table and turn around so that her back faced him. She gave him a pleading look over her shoulder, asking him if he could tie the laces of her dress back up. He consented, expertly lacing up the back of her dress. He noticed something was off about her, the way she went from wanting him to wanting him to stop. He finished fixing her dress, turning her around so she would face him.

"What is it?" Henry questioned, placing his hand underneath Grace's chin so she would look at him directly in the eyes. Grace bit her lip, confirming his suspicions.

"Mr. Cromwell despises me." Grace's voice was edged with dislike as she spoke of the king's advisor. Her lips formed into a thin line. Henry's forehead creased at her words and a dark look passed across his face. He had no idea that Grace felt that and he hadn't realized this was bothering her so much. "Your majesty did not know, did you?" Grace asked. Henry remained silent, answering her question. "Why do you put so much trust in one man when your majesty has hundreds of servants ready to do your bidding? Servants that don't have their own agenda in mind as well?"

A moment of reminiscence passed over Henry. The same situation had occurred with Anne several years before when she was speaking about Thomas Wolsey. It seemed forever ago but her words still rang in his ears. _Is it not strange...To trust so great a matter to just one servant, whoever he is? When Your Majesty has a thousand servants ready and willing to do your bidding? And when your very happiness hangs upon this resolution._ Anne had been talking of Wolsey's mission to get an annulment from the Pope for his marriage to Catherine of Aragon. And now Grace was discussing Cromwell's task to forward his majesty's reformation.

"Sweetheart, Cromwell is most efficient with dealing with my affairs, but if it troubles you so much, I shall ask one of your brothers or perhaps your father to take part in the surveys of the religious houses." Grace nodded at Henry's words, her mind slightly put at ease. "Does it please you?"

"Yes. I am sure they will be grateful to your majesty," Grace responded, smiling up at the king.

"Now," the king spoke, "perhaps we should enjoy this fine weather today and take a walk in the gardens."

"Perhaps we should," Grace replied as she began to head towards the door. However, Henry reached for her hand, pulling her back to him. She gave the king a quizzical look as he stopped her, wondering what he was going to say or do.

"I want you to wear it…right now," Henry said, Grace looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Henry…N…No, I can't do that," Grace stuttered. She shook her head at the king, but he appeared stubborn in his quest for her to wear his gift. He released her hand, grabbing the crown from its box and holding it in front of Grace. It glared up at her, telling her of the consequences of wearing such a thing. She was sure Henry knew them too, but he didn't care. He wanted to show her off on his arm.

"Wear it for me," Henry muttered, giving Grace no choice as he placed the emerald studded crown on her head. She was absolutely breathtaking to him; her green eyes and the emeralds were an exact match. As his eyes looked up and down her body, he couldn't help but think she looked every inch a queen to him, his queen of hearts. His hands drifted from the crown to her face, holding her cheeks in the palms of his hands. "I love you," he spoke in his husky voice, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Grace only nodded at him, having yet to say those words to him.

Henry said nothing more, instead choosing to hold out his arm for Grace. Grace interlocked her arm with his, and he gulped nervously as he led her from his study into his receiving chamber. They faced the great hall, the courtiers chattering among themselves. They had yet to see Grace and the king. The page then announced them, the courtiers clearing a path and becoming silent immediately. "His majesty the king and the Duchess of Gloucester." The booming voice of the page echoed off the walls and the courtiers could only gawk when they saw the magnificent crown placed on Grace's head. They all bowed or curtsied to the two as they passed, Ambassador Chapuys going out of his way to bow deeply as Grace passed, a "your majesty and your grace," escaping from his lips. The other ambassadors and courtiers followed suit, though some remained silent as the pair passed.

Cromwell saw the scene as well, an evident scowl on his face. His dark eyes glared fiercely as Grace passed with the king. Not only did Chapuys spot the sour look on the king's secretary's face, but Grace's brother, Christian Neville, saw the look as well. He took it as a warning, watching Cromwell's every move until he was out of sight. He would be sure to warn his sister. She needed to watch her back and as he gazed on the other courtiers, it wasn't just Cromwell who was her enemy.

* * *

 _ **Portchester Castle 5 October 1535**_

"His majesty has asked if one of you three will take part in the surveys of the religious houses," Warwick spoke to his sons, More at his side. The Tudor Court was settling in at Portchester, having arrived there the day before.

"Well, which one?" Christian asked in a joking tone. Warwick gave his son a stern look, but it did little to quiet him. Christian was always the jokester, though he did have a serious side when it came to performing his duties for his family and the king.

"The king is concerned that his reformation is not all it seems. Your sister has spoken to him about Sir Leigh which has given us the opportunity to act. Perhaps with one of you aiding the king, he will realize that he had no need to close all of the monasteries," More spoke.

"Thank God," Richard spoke. The eldest Neville was pleased with his sister. Though he had no clue the extent of their relationship, Grace apparently had the king's ear and had the power to speak about such matters. "I think it would be best for John or me to attend to this matter while Christian remains at court with Grace."

"Mary and I can watch after Grace, father. You should return home and relax for a while. You have been too worried lately. I'm sure uncle will accompany you as he is returning home." Warwick looked to his younger son, thankful his son had noticed his stress. After what happened to Grace, Warwick had been on edge. Several days, maybe a couple weeks in the countryside would do him some good, give him time to unwind and separate himself from court life.

"Actually nephew, I have decided to remain at court. Mary should return home to care for your children. I cannot return home when Grace has entered the lion's den. It is too dangerous. She needs me here for who knows the lion's strength better than I? Who knows how to control his anger better than I?" The Neville sons were surprised at their uncle's declaration, thinking that he would stay as far away from court as possible. But it seemed Grace changed that. More's niece being at court had changed his mind for he would not let her remain here unprotected. He would not leave her without her knowing that she had him as an ally.

* * *

Anne was sharing the king's lodgings with his majesty, unsure how to act about their arrangement. There were no separate chambers, just that one chamber shared between themselves. Of course there was a receiving chamber, a study, another area to entertain courtiers, and then a corridor that led to the royal bedchambers that made the rooms quite spacious, but Anne felt as if they were invading boundaries. It was true her relationship with the king was mended, but she was still weary.

Anne was currently in her shared bedchamber, her ladies helping her get ready for bed. She wore a thin nightgown and a purple robes on her shoulders, her dark hair having been brushed over her back and shining as the fire to her side lit up the room. Jane Seymour had recently joined that group of ladies; her husband having shown favor to Jane's father when they had stayed at Wolfhall. Jane had been assigned the task of washing Anne's feet, Anne staring down at the plain girl with a satisfied smirk on her face as Jane performed her duties. Anne disliked the girl immensely. She was too English if that made any sense. With her wheat colored hair and dull blue eyes, she looked like a majority of the Tudor court. Nothing stood out about her. Where Anne was passionate and opinionated, Jane was boring and silent. Where Anne was stubborn and defiant, Jane was meek and obedient.

Anne removed her feet from the water basin, Jane startled by the movement. She was momentarily confused for a moment before she moved the water basin and picked up the cloth from her lap to dry off the queen's feet. She rose to her feet, standing in front of Anne with her eyes held firmly at the floor. "Will there be anything else majesty?" she questioned in her quiet voice.

"No," Anne spoke, her dark eyes looking up at Jane's timid expression. Jane curtsied to Anne before muttering a "majesty" and leaving the bedchamber. Anne rolled her eyes at the behavior, her other lady steeping behind her.

"My lady," Nan said, "Mistress Seymour is practically afraid of you," she whispered into Anne's ears. She gave a little giggle at the end of her statement, the pair watching as Jane helped the other ladies tidy up her rooms. "I've heard that she holds an affection for his majesty."

"Most ladies of the court do Nan. She is like all the others who are besotted by him and yet, he ignores them." Anne would never understand some of the ladies at court. Surely, they realized that none of their efforts would attract the king, especially if they did not stick out among the other ladies, not as Anne herself and Grace did.

It was then that the king entered and Anne truly saw what Nan meant. Jane immediately forgot what she was doing and curtsied to the king, a light blush on her face as he passed. Her eyes were filled with adoration as she watched the king approach Anne, not realizing Anne had seen her lovesick look. It was sickening to Anne, to see such a look of almost obsession on the face of Jane. She hadn't seen a look like that since Catherine was at court and it scared her. It seemed that if she was given the opportunity, Jane would devote herself entirely to the king.

"Madam," the king spoke, bowing to Anne. Anne rose from her chair, curtsying to the king as protocol demanded and uttering a "majesty" to the king. "You may leave us," Henry spoke, his attendants and Anne's ladies disappearing.

Henry turned to Anne, an expression on his face that she hadn't seen in a long time: adulation. He neared her, lifting her up bridal style into his arms. Anne was so shocked she barely had time to wrap her arms around Henry's neck. He carried her to their shared bed, setting her down gently as he began to take off his doublet and shirt before removing Anne's robe from her body. "How beautiful you look tonight my love," he said lovingly, further surprising Anne with his out of character affection. He hadn't spoken like this to her since before her miscarriage. She couldn't help but think Grace had something to do with this and she was grateful. He climbed over top of her, kissing her neck.

Anne arched into his body, her hands reaching around his neck. She aggressively pulled his face to hers, their tongues battling for dominance. Henry's hands roamed Anne's body, lifting up her nightgown over her hips. He massaged the skin there, before his hands dug into the flesh. Anne gave out a little moan, reaching for Henry's breeches and untying the laces. Her hand reached for him, stroking him hard. Henry could only bury his face in Anne's breasts, desperately moving the material of her nightgown away from the top of her body. In a moment, the nightgown had been ripped furiously off her, the clothing now ruined. Anne gave out a little gasp to which Henry smiled mischievously down at her before kissing down her body to her secret area. Anne yelled out, her hands burying themselves in Henry's dark hair as he licked at her core. One of the things that Anne loved about Henry is that he was always a generous lover with her, not matter if he was angry at her or not. He always made sure she was ready before he entered her, even if he was rough with her too.

"Henry…Henry…Henry," Anne spoke, feeling her climax as it came over her. Henry climbed over top of her again, entering her as she came down from her high. He pumped into her slowly at first, baring his weight on his elbows. He quickened his speed, his hips moving as fast as they could. Anne grabbed at his shoulders, her nails scratching down his back as she felt her orgasm again. Henry could feel her tightening around him, encouraging his climax as well. They both gave out yells as they finished, Henry collapsing on Anne's body. She held him in her arms, their sweaty bodies glistening as the fire crackled in the room. Henry soon fell asleep, holding Anne in his arms as he used to with Anne's head on his heart and his hands around her waist. Anne could not sleep, though she was happy with what occurred. Thoughts of Jane still ran through her mind and they plagued her throughout the night. She needed to speak to Grace. She needed a plan to get rid of Mistress Seymour.

* * *

 _ **Kimbolton Castle 10 October 1535**_

Catherine of Aragon sat in her room, her bedroom to be more specific. It was the only room she stayed in, vacating all other rooms. The only time she left was to attend mass. She shivered, drawing her cloak around her closely. She was so cold; the fire having died out in her room. Her only remaining lady, Elizabeth, was performing her other duties around the castle. Perhaps it had been because she was fasting as she always did or that she was only wearing a hair shirt of the Order of St. Francis that she was so cold.

Catherine sat at the desk in her room, the furniture chipped and looking at least 25 years old. The castle had not been used for years, not until her husband the king had confined her there. No matter what she made known of, she would still refer to Henry as her husband until the day she died. Even after he separated her from Mary, she still loved him and called herself his wife.

Catherine's hand shook as she struggled to write a letter to her nephew, Charles V, as well as Pope Paul III. She could barely hold her hand up for more than a few seconds before agonizing pain shot through her wrists. To the Emperor, she wrote:

 _My dear Charles,_

 _I thank God for your Majesty's great victory and that you have arrived in Italy in safety. I hope now that you will be able to put an end to my troubles and devise some remedy with the Pope for the things attempted against the Church, for if it be delayed, and God in his mercy do not help, they will do with me and my daughter what they have done with many holy martyrs. You must not think this feigned, because I have much comfort in the hope of following them in death whom I could not imitate in life, as their lives were ecclesiastical and mine mundane. I have been informed that my daughter is in greater danger and yet, I recommend myself to God and to his Majesty. I beg you to remember this kingdom, the King my lord, my daughter, and the souls that will be damned for want of remedy and the innocents who suffer. And I beg you to remember Ambassador Chapuys' services in such a way that you shall see that I am not ungrateful._

 _Queen Catherine of England_

And to the Pope she wrote:

 _Your Holiness,_

 _I have forborne to write to your Holiness as my letters are full of complaints, although not without scruple, as matters in this kingdom require greater diligence. I give thanks to Christ for having given Christendom such a vicar in a time of so great necessity. I beg you to have special consideration for this kingdom, for the King my husband, and my daughter. For, if a remedy be not applied with all speed, there will be no end to the loss of souls or to the making of martyrs. The good will be constant and suffer, the lukewarm perhaps fall away, and the rest stray like sheep without a shepherd. I ask that your Holiness discharge me of my conscience as one who expects death along with my daughter. I have some comfort to think I will follow those holy men in their sufferings, though I grieve that I cannot imitate their lives._

 _Queen Catherine of England_

Catherine hoped these men would seek justice for her, but with the way things were now, she wasn't so sure. She knew her matter was of little importance compared to destroying the Turks, but she knew the Pope understood her predicament. Henry had broken away from the Catholic Church. She was sure the Pope could convince Charles to return to her matter again. She hoped soon, for she knew deep in her heart her time on this Earth was drawing near.

* * *

 _ **Calais 24 October 1535**_

Bishop Stephen Gardiner was set for his journey to France, having stayed in English-occupied Calais for some time now to recover from the trip across the channel. He hoped his efforts to from an alliance between King Francis and his majesty was successful, though he worried that it would not. Francis was a devout Catholic and Gardiner held sympathies for him as he once dedicated himself to the true faith as well. He opposed Cromwell, though because of the reformation of the king, he kept silent and obeyed royal command. He had argued with Mr. Cromwell about the visitation of his diocese, but when the king intervened, he stepped back. He believed in the divinity of kings and that the king's law was God's law. And now here he was, ready to be an ambassador to France. He had written a letter to Cromwell, saying:

 _Mr. Cromwell,_

 _After a good passage, and the loss today of my servant Wodal by the great sickness, wherewith he was infected at his late being in London longer than I would he should, tomorrow I leave for the French court. My journey, though slow, is, I fear me, more speedy than my horse, by reason of their travail on the seas, will maintain. The bailly of Troyes left me word to make no haste. If you think greater speed necessary, I shall use the post. I write you this that you may explain to the King the delay in my journey, which, in the strange watery weather in France, is more cumbrous than wont._

 _Bishop Stephen Gardiner of Winchester_

As Gardiner looked out from his window, he hoped his journey would be successful, and yet, he also hoped the king would return to the true faith.

* * *

 **A/N: Comments?**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors and for this specific chapter, I have looked into**

 **A/N: Hello everyone! I know some of you were upset with the last chapter, but I hope my responses to you make more sense of what is happening as well as this next chapter. Hello to my new favs/followers: Le Parnasse,** **yea, Princess024, belladu57, Kasandrafc, Ariella81, IamBlatheringOnandOn, HarmonyGirl567, bethanylauren87, Angel-from-the-SnowX, and rosered88.**

* * *

 **Ch. 22**

 _ **What needeth these threnning words and wasted wind?**_

 _ **All this cannot make me restore my prey.**_

 _ **To rob your good, iwis, is not my mind,**_

 _ **Nor causeless your fair hand did I display.**_

 _ **Let love be judge or else whom next we meet**_

 _ **That may both hear what you and I can say:**_

 _ **She took from me an heart, and I a glove from her.**_

 _ **Let us see now if th'one be worth th'other.**_

 _ **~What Needeth these Threat'ning Words, Sir Thomas Wyatt**_

* * *

 _ **Windsor Castle 1 November 1535**_

The Tudor Court had traveled to Windsor, the summer progress having ended a few days ago. The only journeys that would be made now would be between royal residences if the king so desired. Grace had remained at court with Anne, Elizabeth having returned to Hatfield during the middle of the previous month. Anne had begged the king not to send their daughter back to her own household, but he insisted. He had comforted her, saying that she was safe now and needed to continue her education and upbringing as a Princess of England. The king was looking into further investigations on who exactly the assassins were, though there was no trail thus so far.

Ambassador Chapuys had conversed with the emperor concerning the Bishop of Winchester's visit to France concerning matters of the king. Chapuys had asked the French ambassador all that had gone on between the bishop and the king of France, but he knew nothing, and swore on the Catholic faith to prove his sincerity. He did however state to Chapuys that he despised Cromwell, who turned him away from an audience with the king five or six times. He French ambassador also spoke of the misdeeds done by the English and relayed that the French Admiral had been offered merchandise belonging to Frenchmen, but they had received none and felt deceived by the English. Cromwell then insulted the French ambassador, saying that the French king's kingdom may be in confusion when he passes, hinting towards the succession of the dauphin. The declaration baffled the ambassador who thought it wrong of Cromwell to say such a thing, especially when it was not his master who broke away from the Catholic Church and the Pope.

Chapuys was then interrogated by the French ambassador who believed that Cromwell would meet with him as his master was the emperor and secretly so. Chapuys had refused all the allegations, but the ambassador still persisted. He did not believe that Chapuys merely asked to visit the Lady Mary and the Dowager Princess of Wales, hinting towards secret meetings once again.

However, Chapuys did know of the king's bishops' travels to the German principalities. The bishop had returned, complaining of the commission he had undertook. The king banned him from Parliament in turn, a small punishment compared to others. And he also knew of the mishap in Ireland, that the earl of Kildare had been brought to court, and that Parliament has been delayed to Candlemas due to the awaiting of the arrival of the bishops and the tax in London which has not been raised due to famine.

And now, Chapuys was relaying all of this to Grace, Christian, and Thomas More who sat across from Chapuys in her chambers. Grace knew what had occurred, not details of course, but the king had revealed to her and Anne his intent to send bishops to France and the German principalities. She knew the king was still sour about the visit of the French Admiral a year before, that his pride had been injured by the French king due to his refusal of a marriage proposal between Elizabeth and Duke of Angouleme. And Grace knew of the bishop's visit to the German principalities: Cromwell. The principalities were gradually turning from the Catholic faith to Lutheranism. It was no secret that Cromwell favored a radical reformation, at least to her. The king could still not see his treachery, blinded by faith in the man who would push forward his reformation.

More knew of this news as well, though he chose to stay away from politics. He had remained at court for Grace's sake while her elder brothers and father were away from court. Meanwhile, Christian watched the scene quietly. He had no interest in such matters. He wasn't like his elder brothers, but he had patience for it as his father had drilled into him that he must learn these things as a courtier.

"The queen will not be happy about Cromwell refusing audiences for the French ambassador. The king, though still angered, must still meet with him for appearances sake." Chapuys noted to himself that Grace was right, though he hated referring to the concubine as the queen. He nodded at her words, watching as she brought her chalice of wine to her lips and drank, heavily he thought. Something was bothering her, though he didn't know what.

"Is something the matter my lady?" Chapuys questioned, genuinely concerned. More and Christian turned to look at Grace, watching her intently. She knew how to hide her emotions from them, but not Chapuys apparently.

Grace's green eyes glinted at his question, knowing that Chapuys would notice her behavior. She made a simple reply. "The king has still not answered my request to bring Mary back to court."

Christian sighed nervously while More shook his head. Grace was so determined to bring Mary back to court as she had profusely explained to her brother and uncle. "My lady, I know nothing of the matter. I wish I could help, but alas, I would be overstepping my boundaries if I spoke to the king on this subject. However, I have told the emperor of your request and he is very grateful to you for trying to return the princess to court," Chapuys spoke.

"I am not doing this on behalf of the emperor, ambassador," Grace said sharply. Her eyes narrowed at the ambassador who had the decency to cringe at her harsh look. "I am doing this on behalf of Mary who deserves to be reunited with her father, she deserves to be reinstated to her status at court as the daughter of the king."

"Grace, you are speaking treason," Christian exclaimed.

"Am I brother? Haven't I taken the oath? Haven't I declared my loyalty to the king and queen? I did not say that Mary should be reinstated in the act of succession. I am not a fool. Elizabeth is the rightful heir to the throne, as the king has made clear," Grace responded in a deadly tone. She was on edge now. She didn't understand how they couldn't see why she was so determined in her mission.

"Grace…" More spoke, scolding his niece for her outburst. "You know that I out of all people support what you are trying to do." Grace looked down at her lap, her hands clasped as her mouth formed a thin line.

"Forgive me ambassador. I lost my temper," Grace said, slightly embarrassed, but also irritated at her uncle.

"It is alright my lady. I understand your loyalty to Mary," Chapuys responded. He looked completely calm, not at all upset with her change of behavior. "Perhaps, it is time for me to depart," he continued, rising from his chair. Christian and More both rose from their own chairs and nodded to the ambassador while Grace remained seated in her chair and tilted her head slightly in respect.

Chapuys left Grace's chambers, relieved to have escaped the tense atmosphere that now filled the room. But he knew the reason for Grace's anger. She was not a subject of the emperor, though he knew she was a true Catholic like Mary. She was loyal to the king and to Chapuys' dismay, the concubine as well. However, he couldn't help but admire her for her character and her devotion to what she thought was right, even if he disagreed.

"Catherine," Grace uttered in an authoritative tone. A blonde girl came out of Grace's chambers, staring meekly at the ground. She was no more than 11 or 12, but she was already proving to be a beauty. She was Mary Boleyn's daughter, the young girl Anne had recommended to be one of her ladies. She proved to be a quick learner and performed her duties obediently. She wore a dress of light blue with pearls on the bodied and sleeves. It was a dress Grace had had made for Catherine and she had had a similar made to wear for her other lady that attended her, along with several other dresses for the girls to wear.

"Yes my lady?" Catherine questioned, blushing as all eyes turned to her.

"I told you to call me Aunt Grace, Catherine. We are family now and are my brother's step-daughter. I am your aunt now." Grace smiled at Catherine, calming the pre-teens nerves.

"Yes Aunt Grace," Catherine responded.

"I need you to go and tell the queen what you just heard." Catherine nodded her head, going to carry out her errand. "Wait." Catherine halted in her steps, turning to look at Grace. "Bring Winifred with you." Another girl emerged from Grace's chambers, hearing her name called. Her hair was strawberry blonde in color and her eyes a dark brown. She wore the same style dress Catherine did, though it was a darker blue. She was Grace's other lady, Winifred Pole, the granddaughter of Margaret Pole whose father had once been the Earl of Warwick. "Both of you go together and come right back. Do you understand?" The girls nodded their heads in sync before heading to the queen's chambers, bearing Grace's news with them.

* * *

 _ **St Martin's Dover 3 November 1535**_

Richard Neville had been sent to join Thomas Leigh during his visits of the monasteries and just as his father had told him, Sir Leigh was not a man of good character. He could see why Cromwell liked him though. He was ruthless, using the power given to him by the crown to receive bribes and favors from the monks or abbots. The pair had recently been to the prior of St. Martins and New Worke of Dover and delivered the King's commission which contained a sequestration of the houses goods and lands as well as demanded a complied list of the inventory of their jewels and goods. These were sent to the general attorney of the king and Mr. John Thompson, Master of the Masondew.

False complaints had been sent about John Folkstone, the prior of the house who tried to prove his innocence by stating that as prior, he had tried to improve the house. He not only repaired the glass of the windows, but paved the church, mended the bakehouse, procured new brass and pewter, and tried to improve the livestock and farm lands of the house. Richard believed this poor man, but Leigh thought otherwise. He bullied the poor prior, saying he was loyal to the devil and not to the king. He and his servants ripped apart the abbey, Richard remaining with the man to comfort him as he watched his house be all, but ruined. Richard promised he would discuss this with the king, but he was worried Cromwell would interfere with his plans.

As he watched Leigh destroy the livelihood of more innocent monks, he saw their faces of horror and despair. Many of them were crying while others held solemn looks on their faces. They were loyal to the king, but had been caught between the war of religions. They had been Roman Catholic and now as the king had created his own church, they were now plain Catholic and no longer took orders from the Pope. There were a few men, men that Leigh and Richard had brought with them during the visitations of the monasteries. These few men were watching in disgust as well, sympathizing with the monks. Richard was relieved that some of these men were decent enough to realize the wrongs of Cromwell. He just hoped the king would soon realize this as well.

* * *

 _ **Richmond Palace 13 November 1535**_

Anne and Henry were in her chambers having dinner together, things having settled into a pattern of normalcy for them. Anne's ladies stood behind her, Jane Seymour among them. Meanwhile, the Duke of Norfolk and Grace served both of their majesties as duty demanded. It was an honor to be of service to the king and queen. The Duke of Norfolk set a platter of food in front of the royal couple, bowing to them while Grace filled their chalices with wine. She curtsied to them, Anne smiling at her as she filled her chalice while Henry eyed her and nodded his head in thanks. Grace stood off to the side with the Duke of Norfolk, though she felt more at ease next to him than Anne's father. Norfolk had made no threats to her as his brother-in-law had. In fact, he made small talk with her the last time they had encountered one another in the great hall. Grace had been quite perplexed at first, but she understood completely the change of attitude. He did not view her as a threat, but a potential ally. And now, as they stood next to each other, Grace realized the predicament of her situation. Norfolk would have to be her ally.

Anne had noticed the change in her uncle and was glad for it. It would make things between her family and Grace much more smoother than they had in the past. She just hoped her father would stop lecturing her about Grace. She trusted her and needed her by her side. Grace revealed all that transpired between her and the king. There were no secrets between them. Anne thought she would be jealous, but she was thankful. Grace was loyal to her though the king did hold affections for her. She would not leave her, not even if the king took her as a mistress would she abandon Anne.

As the couple ate, Henry could not help but notice Anne's cheerful nature. She was beaming, something he had not seen for a long time. "Is there something on your mind, sweetheart?" he questioned.

Anne turned to him, a coy smile on her face. "Yes your majesty. I have a gift for you." Henry raised an eyebrow at her response. She gestured toward Grace who went to retrieve an item from Anne's bedchamber. It was wrapped in a beautiful piece of silk, a ribbon tied around it. Grace placed the parcel on the table and curtsied to their majesties, returning to her position before. Henry went to open it, but Anne halted him.

"Leave us," Anne spoke, her ladies and the servants looking at her with curious faces. All exited the room, Grace among them. She sent an encouraging smile to Anne, knowing exactly what the queen was doing.

"Was that necessary?" Henry asked. He chuckled as his subjects left, wondering what his wife was up to.

"Yes my love, for I wished us to be alone for this moment." Anne's hand settled over Henry's in a loving manner and she gestured towards the parcel. Henry grabbed the package carefully, untying the ribbon and peeling away the wrappings to see a simple white christening gown enveloped within. It was beautifully hand-made, by Anne herself he was sure. It took a moment before he realized the meaning of her gift and his face broke into a contagious grin.

"Anne?" Henry asked. "You are sure?" He was practically bouncing in his seat like a child and Anne felt herself filled with pure happiness, a feeling she had not experienced for quite some time. She could only nod her head as happy tears cascaded down her face. Henry rose from his chair, walking towards her and kneeling before her. He took her face in his hands, their foreheads brushing against each other. It was just them in that small moment as they embraced, Henry's hand brushing over Anne's stomach. It was too early for her to be showing, but he was sure within a few months' time she would be blooming beautifully. "My son," he spoke. Anne nodded her head. In her heart she knew she was carrying the king's son, the future of England. It had to be a boy, it had to be her savior. She was finally on the edge of a golden world.

* * *

 _ **17 November 1535**_

The Duke of Saxony had written to the king about the English embassy that visited his court to settle relations between the two countries. The matter of religion had been discussed and their ability to defend the true faith and spread the doctrine. Though Pope Paul III had sent ambassadors to the king of the Romans and the German princes to propose a council at Mantua, the only comment the elector of Saxony made was that he would convey the message to his confederates, nothing else. Copies of the proposals had been made as well and had been sent back with the English ambassadors who were to seek an answer from their king. Otherwise, the elector of Saxony only wished to hear of the perpetual friendship of the king that would unite them in an eternal bond.

* * *

 _ **21 November 1535**_

The monasteries continued to be surrendered to the will of the king by Cromwell, Richard making sure he kept track of which monasteries had good reports while other were lacking in quality. The Premonstratensian Abbey of St. Mary and St. Thomas the Martyr in Langdon, the priory of St. Mary and St. Eanswith in Folkstone, the priory of St. Mary and St. Martin in Dover, the priory of Merton in York, the priory of Horneby in York, the priory of St. Mary in Bilsyngton, and the Abbey of Tiltey in Essex. It had become draining as he watched the same thing occur day by day. He was to return to court within the next week and soon after, he would finally be home, away from the chaos and away from the destruction of England.

* * *

 _ **Warwick Castle 7 December 1535**_

It was almost Christmas, a fine snow settling over the landscape of England. Grace had returned to her family home for some time, escaping court life for a while. She was currently in her chambers, reading over a letter clasped in her hand. Her brow was creased and her eyes darted over the page. She hadn't been expecting a letter, especially from this particular person. She hadn't seen him since her visit to France three years ago which seemed like a lifetime ago.

Ma chère duchesse de Gloucester,  
J'ai entendu parler de votre grand nouveau titre, venu à vous par un tel grand exploit. Mon cousin le Roi d'Angleterre a la possession d'un sujet si merveilleux que je l'envie, encore plus parce que c'est vous ma douce Grâce. Je vous ai écrit cette lettre dans l'inquiétude que j'ai aussi entendu que mon cousin a une grande faveur de vous ainsi que Anne Boleyn. Vous savez que dans les circonstances, je soutiens tout ce que mon cousin a fait comme lui et moi méprisons les Espagnols, mais comme je suis catholique, je ne peux pas reconnaître son mariage. Je vous conseille de faire preuve de prudence dans vos rapports avec les deux personnes car si quelque chose vous arrivait, moi et toute la France pleurerions notre perte. Je vous préviens aussi que si quelque chose arrive à Anne, quelque chose pourrait vous arriver. Elle a beaucoup d'ennemis, des ennemis qui peuvent maintenant régler leurs yeux sur vous. Tu as un allié en moi, souviens-toi toujours de ça et si jamais tu as besoin de mon aide, tu n'as qu'à parler à mon ambassadeur.

Signé de la main du roi François de France

My dear Duchess of Gloucester,

I have heard of your great new title, come to you by such a great feat. My cousin the King of England has the possession of such a wonderful subject that I envy him, even more so because it is you my sweet Grace. I have written this letter to you in worry as I have also heard that my cousin has great favor of you as well as Anne Boleyn. You know that under the circumstances, I support all my cousin has done as he and I both despise the Spanish, but as I am a Catholic, I cannot recognize his marriage. I advise you to exercise caution in you dealings with both persons for if something were to happen to you, I and the whole of France would mourn for our loss. I also warn you that if something happens to Anne, something may happen to you. She has many enemies, enemies which may now settle their eyes on you. You have an ally in me, always remember that and if you ever need my aid, you only need to speak to my ambassador.

Signed by the hand of King Francis of France

Grace was worried, for if Francis urged her to be cautious then he believed Anne and herself to be in danger. She knew he could not have been behind the assassins sent to Hatfield, as revealed by this letter, but she did know that she had an ally in him. After all, she had been a playmate to his children, an older sister to them while she lived in France with her father all those years before. Grace knew she needed to return to court immediately. She had been in her family's domains for too long and this letter confirmed her fears: that Anne and herself were in danger.

* * *

 _ **Eltham Palace 11 December 1535**_

A banquet was being held for the announcement of the queen's pregnancy. Though she was only around three months along, the king could contain his excitement no longer. He was ecstatic that Anne was pregnant again, with a son as he told his courtiers. He and Anne were certain of it. He knew Anne would deliver on her promise she made him so many years ago and God willing, they would have many more children after this one.

As the king made his rounds through the great hall, many courtiers were partaking in dances in the middle of the hall. However, one such dancer tripped as she was dancing, falling right into the king. The king caught her in his arms, at first angered by being knocked into, but then he realized the reason for such a thing. His irritation faded away as he heard the lady whimper, her ankle appearing to have been sprained in her clumsiness. Besides the fact, she was a woman and not a man so the king would have to appear a gentlemen. "Are you alright my lady?" he asked, looking down at the woman as he helped her gather herself. It was one of his wife's ladies, though her name escaped him. By the standards of his time, she was English rose with her corn-colored hair and blue eyes. She was plain, but her beauty had a simplicity to it that made her seem pleasant enough.

"Yes, your majesty," the lady spoke, her eyes cast downwards. She would not look directly into his eyes, a trait which differed from Anne and Grace who always looked directly at him when they spoke to him.

"What is your name, my lady?" Henry questioned, the lady still not looking up at him.

"Jane Seymour," the lady replied, her eyes finally looking up at him. The name Seymour was familiar to him, having fought with a John Seymour in the sieges of Thérouanne and Tournay in 1513. He was a loyal subject and Henry enjoyed his company.

"You're the daughter of Sir John Seymour then?" Henry asked. Jane nodded at the king's words, though she uttered nothing else. "Perhaps I should return you to your father then," he continued, aiding Jane as he looked around for her father. He spotted him with his sons, Edward and Thomas, and Mr. Cromwell who looked deep in conversation.

John Seymour happened to glance up from the men, spotting his daughter in the arms of the king. He looked surprised before his expression turned to worry as he watched his daughter limping, the king aiding her so that she wouldn't hurt herself any further. He approached them, bowing to the king before addressing him. "Thank you, your majesty," he spoke, turning to Jane as she walked into her father's arms. "What happened sweetheart?" he questioned.

"I was clumsy and hurt my ankle while dancing. If it wasn't for the king, I would fallen straight on my face. He saved me." John chuckled at his daughter's words, knowing Jane could exaggerate her words sometimes. Her words were laced with kindness and as John looked at the king, he couldn't help but notice the king felt prideful at her words. She was stroking his ego.

"I did not such thing. I was merely in the right place at the right time," Henry said, his gaze falling on Jane who looked up at him sweetly through her eyelashes.  
Enjoy the rest of your evening," Henry continued, Jane and the men bowing and curtsying respectfully to the king as he continued around the hall.

"Well played sister, well played," Thomas Seymour spoke as they watched the king.

"You did well," John uttered to his eldest daughter. "The king seems quite taken with you." Jane beamed up at her father for his praise of her performance.

"Perhaps the king will seek her out soon," Edward added. He turned to Mr. Cromwell. "Thank you Mr. Cromwell for your suggestion."

"Of course, Mr. Seymour. I know the king is quite mesmerized by Jane's beauty and if I may say so, Jane is an example to all ladies of this court," Cromwell replied. He grinned, satisfied with his plan. With time, he hoped that Jane would replace Grace in the king's affections. He would be rid of her soon enough.

* * *

 _ **25 December 1535**_

It was the first day of Christmas celebrations, the king and queen seated on their grand thrones. Anne's hand was clasped firmly in Henry's, Elizabeth on her lap. Henry wore a grand outfit of black with a gold chain and though it was not red, it suited him. Anne wore a gown of deep red with a scooped neckline, the dress tailored to reveal her growing bump. She had designed the dress herself, dictating that it should be in the French style. The jewelry she wore was a combination of rubies and amethysts. She had a dress commissioned for Elizabeth as well, but because of her red hair, Anne had chosen a festive green color with a red sash. Both had flower crowns in their hair made of evergreens as did some of the other ladies of court. However, Anne looked the most regal of them all, her status as queen and mother of the future king evident in her style as well as the king's behavior towards her.

Grace had returned to court a week after receiving her letter from King Francis, yet she said nothing to Anne. She mentioned the letter to Christian, but no one else. Not even Arthur who she was closest to. She didn't dare say anything to her father for he would worry for her safety. However, she considered consulting her uncle, though she wasn't sure when the right time was.

Grace currently was standing to the side of the thrones with Anne's other ladies. She stood closest to Anne as she was her and the king's favorite. Henry looked at her from the corner of his eye every so often as courtiers presented their gifts to him and Anne. And while Anne looked ravishing to him, Grace was almost as impeccably dressed as his queen. Grace's gown was of a red and purple pattern, her status as duchess making the color acceptable to wear. She wore a pair of ruby earrings and a ruby necklace while the traditional wreath was placed on her head. She watched the festivities with a smile on her face, but she had a wary look in her eyes. She looked as if she was observing anyone who approached them, trying to sense who was an enemy and who wasn't.

Grace was barely paying attention to the king, her mind occupied with this one thought. She watched as the courtiers presented their presents to him and Anne, merely eyeing each and every courtier before her gaze passed along to another one. She was paranoid, though no one but her brother Christian noticed. He could not fathom who would be an enemy to her sister, other than Cromwell that is. He stood with his father and all of his brothers, Arthur having been formally introduced to court that Christmas.

A final presentation was to be made that evening, but the final person had not arrived yet. Henry awaited eagerly, sparking interest in the courtiers. His eyes darted to the opening of his throne, his patience running thin. He made eye contact with the servant announcing the names of his courtiers, making a hand gesture that the person should step forward. The man nodded, signaling to another servant that the person was to step forward. Many gasps could be heard as the person made their way through the hall to the throne room, the courtiers astonished at the appearance of such a guest. "The Lady Mary Tudor," the page announced, more murmurings breaking out among the crowd. Grace's head snapped towards the entrance to the throne room, her eyes filled with disbelief. The same expression appeared on Anne's face, Henry not telling her of his decision to invite Mary to court. She plastered small smile on her face for appearances, though she was trembling inside. Mary was the king's daughter and she knew this was a father-daughter reunion, but she worried what her presence at court meant for her and Elizabeth. She feared Henry would place Mary in the line of succession, above Elizabeth. She turned to Grace, the woman already staring at Anne as she waited for her reaction. She reached for Anne's hand subtlety, Anne grasping it tightly in hers. The notion was comforting to her for Grace knew her fears and respected them.

Mary entered the room, casting cautious glances around at the courtiers. She spotted Grace immediately next to Anne, letting out a sigh of relief at her friend. She looked towards her father who sat solemnly in his chair, watching his eldest daughter curiously. She looked like her mother, Henry thought, with her auburn locks and pale blue eyes. She was an English born lady, but still retained her Spanish heritage. She was elegantly dressed in a red gown with a paisley design, the sleeves revealing white ribbons interlaced on the fabric. A simple gold cross lay on her neck, an item which had been given to her by her mother, and in her hair lay the traditional Christmas wreath.

Mary approached her father tentatively, casting her eyes down towards the floor as she curtsied in front of him. "I ask your majesty for his blessing," she spoke. She said nothing to Anne. She only had eyes for her father. It was silent for a moment, Henry gazing down at his daughter with a thoughtful expression. Everyone held their breath as they waited for their king to speak. Henry rose from his throne, raising Mary up from her curtsy. He rubbed his hands over her shoulders in a soothing manner before cupping her cheeks with the palms of his hands.

"Mary," Henry spoke, smiling lovingly at his daughter and kissing her forehead.

"Father," Mary responded, her hands holding her father's wrists as he greeted her as he used to. The court looked on in amazement, not understanding why the Lady Mary had been brought to court if she had refused to take the oath.

Henry removed his hands from her face, instead holding one of her hands in his and presenting her to the court. "Many of you desired that I should exile my daughter. Some of you even said I should execute her for treason." At those words Mary fainted in her father's arms. Grace was startled at the action, jerking forward as she watched her friend fall into her father's arms. Anne had been alarmed as well, rising to her feet as she watched her step-daughter with a hint of worry in her eyes. Elizabeth had no idea what was going on, her childish nature making it so that she did not quite understand the situation. Mary was placed back on her feet in an instant, her eyes opening slowly. "It's alright Mary. You are in no harm. You are protected," he spoke, his voice loud enough so his courtiers could hear him. Mary could only nod at her father's words, her voice calming her anxiety. "Say hello to the queen," he whispered to her, Mary's face turning white at his words. She turned to Anne nervously, though there was a hint of animosity in her blue eyes. "Madam," she said, giving Anne a curtsy. Though Anne was slightly insulted at the lack of the word "queen" and the insufficient curtsy, she resisted giving Mary a scowl and acknowledged her by nodding her head. Henry was satisfied with Mary's greeting for now, but he would speak to her later about her lack of respect.

"Lady Gloucester," Henry uttered, his hand reaching for Grace. He placed Mary's hand in hers before turning to his court. Grace squeezed Mary's hand happily, the daughter of the king returning the gesture as she smiled happily at her friend. "Enjoy the rest of tonight's celebrations," Henry declared, the court clapping at his words and returning to their previous conversations. He returned to his seat next to the queen, watching as Mary and Grace talked to the side of him. Grace sent him a pleased look, mouthing a "thank you" to him. Henry only smiled back her, her beaming smile a precious gift to him.

"You didn't tell me that you would let the Lady Mary return to court," Anne spoke sharply to him. She was angry, but kept her words contained as she held Elizabeth in her lap. The toddler pointed to her older sister, Anne letting go of her so she could greet her. Elizabeth happily ran over to her sibling, Mary giving her the proper greeting before taking her baby sister in her arms. Elizabeth giggled at Grace's and Mary's antics, happy to be at the center of attention. The sight calmed Anne slightly, but she was still irritated that Henry had conversed with her on the matter.

"I did not think it was necessary. Mary is my daughter after all." Henry emphasized the word "my," making it clear that Anne had no say if Henry wanted to bring Mary to court. Anne said nothing, holding her tongue back from making a retort. Henry waited for her to speak, but Anne remained silent. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "There is no need to worry my love. Our son shall be king. Mary knows her place. You have nothing to worry about. She will respect you in time, you'll see." Anne gave a slight smile at Henry's words, hoping what he said was true.

They both turned back to the festivities, the court noticing that all was resolved between their monarchs. Anne would not be quick to anger as they were used to. Jane Seymour especially thought the queen would show her dismay at the arrival of Mary. She had been hoping the king would notice her this evening, but he made no look her way at all. He was too occupied with Anne, Grace, Mary, and Elizabeth. She frowned at the fact she was ignored. However, Cromwell was even more disappointed than her, but with Mary's appearance, not the queen's reaction. The king had made no mention of this arrangement and as he looked towards Grace, he hate for her intensified even more. His grip on the king was slipping, all because of Grace Neville.

* * *

A/N: Not sure if my French translation is right FYI! Comments?


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.**

 **A/N: Hello everyone!** **Sorry I have been so late with this update. I had my wisdom teeth taken out so I have been out of it. Hello to my new favs/followers: pokumu, Belladonna007, Southern Nerd, Queen Azalea, LirelWood, ardently in love with her, TashaTivan, Roberta Lozano, UnitedLuck, SailorSedna052, Wednesday Harris, Tsukkancs, Vintage8787, FantasyMadameBrunette, teapotsandblood, Kaspaya17, rockangelice14, and Sambam15.**

 **Ch. 23**

 **My love is as a fever, longing still  
For that which longer nurseth the disease,  
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,  
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.  
My reason, the physician to my love,  
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,  
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve  
Desire is death, which physic did except.  
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,  
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;  
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,  
At random from the truth vainly express'd;  
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,  
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.**

 **~William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXLVII**

 _ **Eltham Palace 28 December 1535**_

Henry and Grace stood next to the windows in his apartments that overlooked the gardens. They were watching the snow fall to the ground, a new layer of white covering the grounds which replaced the previous slush that had been melting. Henry wore his usual dark garments while Grace had donned a navy-blue gown with red undersleeves and a red underskirt. She had been wearing a French hood on her head, but Henry had removed it so that her curls were rolling down her back. She wore a simple set of pearl earrings, but around her neck lay the Tudor-rose necklace Henry had given her the year before.

Henry's arms were wrapped around Grace's middle, his face pressed into her hair as he took in her scent. Grace's head was tilted ever so slightly as he rubbed his face further into her neck. A small smile was on her face as she was content in his arms during that silent moment. It was just the two of them, only Henry and Grace, not the king and Lady Gloucester. All formalities had been cast aside, as they always were when they were alone.

"Are you happy, Grace?" Henry questioned as he lifted his hand to her chin and turned her face towards him.

"Of course I am," Grace spoke, her eyes fluttering up at him. "As is Mary. She is quite pleased with the rooms you have given her and has enjoyed her time at court. Her ladies have been most pleasant." Lady Dorothy Hastings and her sister Mary, the daughters of George Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon, had been appointed her ladies-in-waiting for her time at court and Mary was glad to have some girls of her own age accompanying her around court. "Thank you for returning her to court." She collected herself for a moment as she tried to decide how to word her next sentence. "I…I know that because of her position not only in your majesty's court, but also in the politics of the world that your decision was not without difficulty." Grace turned around in the king's arms, Henry's hand moving to her lower back as she raised herself up on her toes to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

"You know I'd do anything for you," Henry responded, drawing Grace closer to him and grasping her face lightly with his hands. He gently stroked her cheeks, carefully drawing his thumb over the smooth flesh. One hand returned to her back while the other drifted around to grip her throat. His eyes darkened at her surprised gasp and a look of passion appeared as his hold on Grace's throat tightened in an animalistic manner. Grace looked up at him in a seductive manner, her green eyes taunting him as she bit her lip. A growl erupted from his chest as he crashed his lips on hers, the lion within awakening.

The pair stepped apart as they began to take off their garments frantically. Henry reached for the laces of Grace's dress, untying them while Grace began to unbutton his doublet. He pushed her dress downwards, Grace aiding him until the dress sat in a pool around Grace's ankles. She was left in her corset and underskirt, Henry's eyes traveling up and down her body eagerly. He pulled her to him once more, guiding them to a chair. He sat down quite abruptly, dragging Grace down with him so that she had to straddle him.

Henry grabbed a fistful of hair, Grace's lips connecting with his as the pair moved against each other. Their bodies began to build friction, Henry moaning with each movement. Grace uttered innocent sounds of pleasure that rang in Henry's ear. He wanted more, one hand cupping her breasts while the other drifted downwards under her skirt. The movement startled Grace as Henry's hand was moving further up than it usually did. She stopped rubbing her body against his, green eyes connecting with blue.

Henry didn't utter a word, but in his eyes, Grace saw he was asking permission for him to continue. She merely nodded, biting her lip nervously as his hand caressed her upper thigh before drifting in between her legs towards her womanhood. His fingers touched her wetness immediately and he heard her sharp intake of breath. He started kissing her again to distract her from what he was doing, though he could tell she couldn't stop focusing on his fingers as he slid his fingers further into her. He found her clit, massaging the bundle of nerves gently. Grace relaxed, her legs loosening up from their tightness.

Henry was pleasantly surprised at her willingness, Grace's legs continuing to widen for him. He slid a finger into her, Grace muttering his name against his lips. She stopped kissing him, focusing on the pleasure that was building inside of her. Henry's head lowered to the top of her breasts as he began kissing and sucking on the skin there. Grace's hands were on the back of his neck, pulling roughly at the hairs on the nape of is neck. She pushed his head further into her breasts while her lower body pressed into his hand.

Henry moved his fingers in rhythmic pattern, his thumb sliding over Grace's clit while his pointer finger pumped in and out of her. His name spilled from her lips like orisons as her body jerked against his. Henry added another finger, pleased as her folds encased his fingers deliciously. She was so tight, so wet for him. He knew she was close and within a few seconds, she was tumbling over the edge. Grace cried out, her walls clenching tight around his fingers as he felt her first orgasm roll over her. Her body was shaking from the sensations she felt, having never experienced such a thing.

Henry just held Grace as she trembled in his arms, stroking her hair lightly as she buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel her breathing as she slumped against him, her body tired from its experience. He was satisfied at having given her such pleasure, not respecting anything from her in return. She had let him touch her. It was a gift very precious to him, though it may not seem so important to other men. He knew it was a huge step for her to allow him to do such a thing as only her husband should be allowed such a privilege and instead, she had given that privilege to him.

Buried in his thoughts, Henry almost didn't realize Grace was crying. Her body was trembling, but instead of pleasure, all she felt was guilt and the emotion wracked her body. Henry felt the wetness on his shoulder, his doublet having been taken off in the chaos. He interpreted her tears as ones of fear and he carefully pulled her back from his shoulder to look at her face. Grace tried to wipe her tears away, but it was no use. He had already seen them.

"Have I hurt you my darling?" Henry questioned in a gentle tone. He thought his actions had scared Grace and he worried she was thinking that he took advantage of her. His face held a desperate countenance as he stared into her eyes, searching for an answer. But Grace shook her head, feeling a lump in her throat as she tried to talk.

"It…It…It is a sin what we have done," Grace whispered, Henry barely hearing her. "I have committed a sin against God, against Anne. She is your wife and I…I have betrayed her by allowing you to touch me." Grace frantically pushed herself off Henry's lap, lying in a heap before him. She sprung to her feet, reaching for her dress. Tears clouded her eyes as she tried to dress herself, not noticing as Henry rose to his feet as well. He approached her cautiously, knowing that she was in an unstable state of mind. He reached for her tenderly, his hand touching her arm ever so slightly.

Grace froze at Henry's touch, looking up at him with her guilt-ridden face. Henry shook his head at her, stating "Grace, what we have done is not wrong. You have done nothing wrong." Grace ignored him, returning to the task at hand as she tried to redress herself. Henry became impatient, using a small amount of force to pull her to him. He grasped her face with his hands as he tried to calm her down again. "Sweetheart, you need to listen to me. You have committed no sin."

"But I have," Grace responded. The tears became more frequent as she spoke and her voice cracked. "Henry, what will Anne think? She must hate me." Her hands covered her face as she cried and Henry took her in his arms as he tried to comfort her. Her guilt had been buried inside her so long that now it completely enveloped her. Henry knew Grace had developed a close bond with his wife and he feared she would make herself sick with guilt over his relationship with her.

"She does not hate you, my love. She could never hate you," Henry muttered into Grace hair, kissing the top of her head. "Please don't cry. I can't bear to see you cry." He rubbed soothing circles on her back, Grace's tears stopping though her body still shook. He pulled away from her in order to look directly into her eyes. "Perhaps you should go and lie down for some time. I will come and visit you later." Grace nodded, allowing Henry to help her tie the laces on her dress. He gave her a light kiss as she departed. "I love you," he said before she exited his chambers. Grace said nothing. She couldn't say anything. She was too overcome with disgrace to mutter anything to him.

 _ **30 December 1535**_

Grace had remained silent, telling no one of her recent interaction with the king. She felt overcome with guilt, as if it would consume her from the inside out. She hadn't dare face Anne yet. She was too afraid to tell her what had occurred. However, she was currently in her chambers discussing King Francis' letter with her uncle. She was deeply concerned, as why he.

"His majesty wrote to me recently. I still have the letter." Grace handed the document to her uncle, his eyes scanning over the words carefully. Grace saw his eyes narrow at one particularly part, the same that Grace had dwelt over for many hours after she read it.

"He believes that you have the same enemies as the queen?" Grace shrugged at her uncle's words, her chin resting against her hand as she stared at him across the table. "But who?"

"I don't know who, nor does he apparently. He only advised me to be cautious."

"We must all be cautious. You must gain some allies at court," More responded. "Ambassador Chapuys has showed you his support, but who else has while at court.

"Strangely enough, the Duke of Norfolk has been kind to me," Grace replied.

"That is of some comfort. If he has shown no dislike towards you, it shows his support of your relationship with the queen, even the king in some regards. Who else?" More questioned.

"The Duke of Suffolk and his wife Catherine, the Poles, our Neville cousins…" Grace wracked her brain, trying to think of any particular courtiers that had been kind to her and her family, genuinely kind, as she knew most courtiers only served themselves. Yet, she did know those who hated her. "Master Cromwell hates me….and the Seymours support him."

"It would be natural for those who dislike the queen to dislike you as well. After all, the Seymours seem to be pushing their daughter in the king's direction as of recently. You must always remain aware of them. Be on your watch," More relayed.

"I always am uncle," Grace spoke, her eyes darkening at his words. She despised Cromwell for he always deemed his actions as ordered by the king. He was radicalizing the king's church too much for Grace's liking. She understood that the king wished to separate himself from the corruptness of the Catholic faith, but how could he do that when his new church promoted corruption itself?

"I only say this in order for you to be careful darling. I will not be here to always protect, nor will your father. If things continue the way they are, we must be prepared," More said in a serious voice. "We must not forget the Hatfield occurrence. We almost lost you and dare I say it, but I believe it was one of Anne's enemies."

"I understand uncle," Grace spoke, realizing the truth of her uncle's words. She needed to be cautious, not for her sake but for Anne's as well. If she wasn't, anything could happen.

 _ **1 January 1536**_

Grace was visiting Anne in her chambers, trying everything in her power to appear normal. She always visited Anne, yet because of her situation with the king, she had not been to Anne's rooms out of guilt. Anne studied her closely, knowing something was bothering her friend, but she didn't know what. They were sitting together, eating an early dinner with each other. Grace's ladies sat behind her, sewing while the other women talked while Anne's ladies did the same as well as waited on them. Jane Seymour was among them, holding a pitcher of wine in her hands and standing to the side of the two women. Both women had cast their gazes on her during dinner. Anne's sharp eyes held a threatening gaze in them while Grace's was more of caution than anything else.

"Grace, will you tell me what's bothering you?" Anne questioned. She was forward, as she always was. Grace shook her head, realizing she had been caught.

"There is nothing wrong your majesty," Grace answered, though her soft voice betrayed her. Anne waved her hand, dismissing her ladies. Jane faltered for a moment, not understanding the queen's motion. "The queen ordered you to leave Mistress Seymour. I suggest you do so." Grace's voice had a venomous edge to it, surprising Anne and all of her ladies. Grace never spoke in such a tone and it confirmed Anne's suspicions that something was bothering her friend. The ladies-in-waiting filtered out of the room, Grace's ladies among them.

With Anne and Grace now alone, the queen rose from her chair and approached Grace. Grace's eyes were cast down to the floor. She dare not look in her eyes, for fear they would betray her. "Grace," Anne muttered in a gentle tone, "Please tell me what was happened?" Her soothing voice brought Grace to the edge and she looked up at Anne, tears pouring from her green orbs. Anne was alarmed, taking Grace's hands in hers. "Grace? 

"Anne…" Grace replied. She never informally addressed Anne, though Anne encouraged her to do so often. "I fear you may cast me out of your presence if I tell you what has happened."

Anne's forehead crinkled at her words while her eyebrows raised. "Grace, I could never do that. You are my most trusted confidant."

"But I have betrayed you!" Grace exclaimed, rising from her chair. The furniture fell to the ground at the force she exerted when she got up and Anne released her hand at the sound.

"What do you mean?" Anne backed away from Grace, eyeing her warily.

"I…" Grace stumbled over her words, trying to formulate the right way to tell Anne of her encounter. "I…The king…I allowed the king to touch me…intimately," she revealed. Anne was at a loss of words, a blank stare appearing on her face. Grace continued to cry silently, her hands rubbing roughly at her face. It was red from the motions as well as from the tears streaming down. "Please say something. Your silence is too much for me to bare."

Anne swallowed her pride, knowing this would have happened sooner or later. She was stung by the action, hurt that Henry and Grace would do such a thing, but she was not bothered by it like she thought she would be. Instead, she accepted, just as she accepted Henry's love for Grace. She knew Grace could not help being besotted by the king. After all, she had been in her position once before, when Catherine had been queen and she a lady-in-waiting. "Grace I must admit that your actions come as no surprise to me. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And though it does hurt, I am not angry with you."

Anne's reaction was not what Grace had expected, but the opposite. Her tears halted and she stared up at Anne with an astounded look. Her mind traveled in several directions, trying to figure out why Anne was not threatening her. Seeing her dilemma, Anne took Grace into her arms. "I know that you care for the king. Perhaps you even love him, but I know that whatever goes on between you and the king, that you would never betray Elizabeth or I."

"Anne, I would never do such a thing," Grace spoke. "And I never meant to care for the king. I hated him when I first arrived at court, and then…."

"I never meant to care for him either, but we are like moths, drawn to the burning flame. It's enchanting, it's empowering, its all-consuming. The kings has set his eye on you as he has me, and for that reason we are bound to each other," Anne explained. The two women remained absorbed in their embrace, holding on to each other for dear life. They were forever connected to each other, and they both understood their fate. If one of them rose to glory, the other would obtain the same while if one fell from grace, the other was soon to follow.

 _ **Kimbolton Castle 6 January 1536**_

Queen Catherine lay dying in her chambers, her illness finally overtaking her body. She was weak and lay helpless in her bed, her loyal Lady Elizabeth by her side. Sir Thomas More was also there, having been given leave by the king to visit her, though Henry did not know Catherine was on her death bed. He stared on in pity as well as devotion. He would stay with her until the end, displaying his never-ending loyalty to the true queen of England.

A priest stood before Catherine, dictating the last rites in Latin to her. Her remaining female servants were also present, weeping for their mistress. A page stood by her bedside, writing her will as quickly as he could in his shaky handwriting. She spoke, "I know that I must die. I ask that my debts be cleared and my servants be recompensed for the good service they have done for me. I wish to be buried in the convent of the Observant Friars and I would wish that 500 Masses be said for my soul. And that someone would visit Shrine of our Lady of Walsingham to pray on my behalf. For my daughter, Mary I leave my collar of gold I brought from Spain and my furs…"

Catherine's body was wracked with a coughing fit, Elizabeth and Thomas on either side of her as they tried to aid her. "Madam, let me help you," Elizabeth said.

"Thank you, my loyal and loving Elizabeth…And thank you dear Sir Thomas. I must write to the king." Again, she spoke weakly to the page. "My lord and dear husband I commend me unto you. The hour of my death draws fast on and my case being such the tender love I owe you forces me to put you in remembrance of the health and safeguard of your soul which you ought to prefer above all considerations of the world of flesh whatsoever for which you have cast me into many miseries and yourself into many cares. For my part I do pardon you all. Yea, and I do wish and pray dearly, God he will pardon you also. For the rest, I commend unto you our daughter, Mary, beseeching you to be a good father unto her as I have always desired. And lastly, I vow that mine eyes desire you above all things." She began to moan in pain, struggling to utter her last sentence. "Elizabeth, help me." She was in so much pain, but she still leaned forward to sign her name to her will. Elizabeth guided Catherine's hand to the parchment and helped her write her signature as best she could. Her wrist finally gave out from the effort and the feather slackened in her hand. Elizabeth reached for her mistress' hand while Thomas made the signal of the cross over his chest, kneeling beside Catherine's bedside. The others in the room followed suit.

The priest continued to pray in Latin, those around him saying their own private prayers. "In manus tuas commendo spritum meum," (In your hands I commend my soul). Catherine whispered on her dying lips. She gave out her last breath, her eyes still open as her soul departed her body.

 _ **Greenwich Palace 8 January 1536**_

Thomas More had a mission to fulfill. He had hurried to Greenwich after the death of Catherine. He needed to reach Grace before anyone else heard of the news of Catherine's death. It was nightfall when he arrived, the entire court settling into their rooms for the evening. A messenger had been sent ahead of him, delivering Catherine's letter to the king. More was sure Anne had heard the news, but he knew Anne would be ecstatic and not in the same mind as Henry. He also predicted that the king was reading the letter from Catherine when he arrived, but he didn't have the time to head to the king's chambers. Instead, he went straight to Grace.

Bursting into Grace's bedchamber, More came upon his niece in her nightgown. The sound of doors crashing open startled Grace and she turned to her uncle with wide eyes. "Uncle?" she questioned. "What is wrong?"

"Catherine is dead." The statement alone made Grace's blood curdle. She rose from her chair in front of the fire, snatching her robe from its place as she rushed to the king's chambers. Her uncle led her, casting his eye warily on their way to make sure no one saw. Grace's reputation would be at stake if someone saw them, but fortunately, no one was present in the dark halls of the palace.

When they arrived at the king's rooms, a page had been posted at the door to prevent anyone from entering. Grace ignored his pleas, giving him an ice cold look and dashing though the door. More held the page back as he protested, but More hushed him as Grace shut the door behind her. She was met with a sight of grief, Henry's back pressed against the wall next to the blazing fire and Catherine's letter in his hand. He appeared defeated, cries of sorrow erupting from his lips. He remained motionless, staring ahead as if he hadn't heard Grace enter the room. He didn't appear unmanly to her, but rather broken.

"Henry…" Grace whispered as she cautiously walked towards Henry. Her feet barely made any sounds as she pattered across the floor to him. He didn't move, even when she stood directly in front of him. Grace lowered herself to her knees, reaching her hand out to touch his knee. Henry finally turned to her, his eyes filled with such intense sorrow.

"She's dead. Catherine's dead," Henry spoke in a dispirited tone. Grace nodded her head, her green eyes displaying pity at his state.

"I know," Grace replied.

"Oh, God!" Henry broke out. "Catherine is dead and it's my fault."

"No, no you must not say that," Grace said. She reached for him, taking her face in his hands. "It is not your fault. How could you say that?"

"I…I sent her to that dreadful place. I sent her there to rot while I remained here. I denied her the right to see Mary. I was terrible to her. How could I be so dreadful to a woman who was devoted to me? To the woman who was my wife for so many years?" Henry began to cry into his hands, Grace unsure how to comfort him. She remained in front of him, speaking soothing words to him until his crying stopped. He reached forward for her, drawing her into his lap. He just sat there, his face pressed into her chest as Grace's hands ran through his hair. They didn't speak another word that night, Grace finally able to coax Henry to bed. When he finally consented, he wouldn't let her go once he had settled into bed. Instead, he pulled her in next to him, not wanting to be alone that night.

 _ **9 January 1536**_

The king was holding a celebration that day, an event planned out of the blue in response to his secret grief. He wore black, as a sign of mourning, while Anne wore the Spanish color, yellow. It was a drastic comparison, dark versus light, somber versus happy. Grace had convinced the king to allow Mary to attend her mother's funeral, though Grace remained behind with Anne to watch over the king in his current state. She would join Mary later and perhaps she could convince the king to do so as well.

In the morning, Grace had been the one to tell Mary of her father's plans, Mary having been informed of her mother's death the night before. Mary had showed Grace all that her mother had left her: her mother's rosary, furs, a collar of gold, and the document bearing the papal seal that proved that Henry's and Catherine's marriage was valid. Mary pronounced that she would never abandon her mother's cause, Grace saying nothing. Mary could only remain stubborn for so long until Henry's temper got the best of him.

Grace walked next to the queen as they made their way to the gardens where the celebration was taking place. Anne looked truly magnificent in a gown of gold and an elaborate headdress in her hair. Grace had chosen a less extravagant outfit for the event, but one that displayed her status. A floral pattern of gold and black over an underskirt of black perfectly blended the colors of mourning of Spain and England. She wore no headdress, only her cross necklace and gold earrings. But she was careful not to outshine the queen.

While they walked, Anne's ladies trailing behind, Anne kept casting her eye at Grace. She was nervous, extremely so as all eyes were on her because of the death of the queen. And Grace was her support. She was Henry's as well. Both were clinging on to her for strength, Henry in his mourning and Anne in her isolated power as queen.

While the trio walked throughout the gardens, they all spotted Elizabeth playing with the other children who had been brought to court. Grace's nieces were among them, both Elizabeths running side by side. The three chuckled at the display of the girls, Henry deciding to take place in their merriment.

"If you'll excuse me," the king spoke, bowing to Anne and Grace as they curtsied to him. They watched as he approached the princess, exclaiming, "Sweetheart. Come here." Elizabeth ran towards her father, running into his arms and allowing him to throw her up in the air. "My Elizabeth."

Meanwhile, the two women intertwined their arms as they made comments at the scene in front of them. The king adored his daughter and they were both glad he was showering Elizabeth with attention. They laughed as he played with the children, declaring, "Oh, guards, guards, protect me. Yeomen! En garde. You're going to the Tower. Protect me. Protect your king." Grace's older nieces joined in, clinging to Henry's legs as the young boys pretended to be soldiers.

"Ma…mama! Gracie!" Elizabeth yelled out. She waved to both women, an enchanting smile on her face. Grace and Anne waved back before making their rounds with the courtiers, as was expected of Anne.

"My papa," Elizabeth spoke, clinging to Henry as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"My Elizabeth." Henry kissed the top of his younger daughter's red curled head. It was perfect father and daughter scene and truly showed the sweet-spot Henry held for his children.

"We are on the edge of a golden world, aren't we Grace?" Anne questioned as Grace and her leisurely walked around the festivities.

"Your golden world, majesty. It will be yours."

"Uncle," Anne voiced, the Duke of Norfolk coming into their path.

"Your majesty," Norfolk spoke, bowing to his niece. "Lady Neville," he muttered to Grace.

"My lord," Grace replied. An awkward silence fell across the group, Grace eyeing Norfolk.

"If you don't mind, I would like to talk to you Lady Neville, with her majesty's permission."

"Of course, uncle. Grace…" Norfolk held his hand out for Grace. She took it out of courtesy, looking toward Anne and sending her a reassuring look.

"Is there something you want, your grace?" Grace snatched her hands from the duke's grip, clasping her hands in front of her as they walked side by side.

"I think you know what I want." Norfolk was straight to the point. He wouldn't beat around the bush. "I propose an alliance between our families."

"You already know I am loyal to Anne. Now you want me to be loyal to your family?" Grace questioned. She gave the duke an incredulous look and went to brush past him, but he caught her arm with his hand.

"I know you are not a stupid girl. You're quite smart, just like Anne. You know what I mean."

"The Seymours," Grace said.

"Exactly," Norfolk spoke.

"Then trust me when I say this my lord. The Seymours will make an enemy out of me and my family if something happens to Anne. Do I make myself clear?" Grace asked.

"Of course, your grace." The conversation was over as soon as it began, Grace heading towards Anne who was waiting for her pateiently.

 _ **Peterborough Cathedral 15 January 1536**_

It was the day of Catherine' funeral, Grace having persuaded the king to travel with her to Peterborough Cathedral to pay his respects to his first wife. They traveled in a private carriage, no symbols of the royal family decorating its side. Black curtains had been drawn, blocking anyone's view who dared to look inside the mysterious carriage. Grace had not dared to say a word the entire ride to the cathedral, though it took about a third of the day to travel there. Henry was absorbed in his thoughts, as was Grace. Yet, the silence was comfortable between the two.

When they arrived, the bells of the cathedral were ringing, signaling the beginning of the funeral. The two emerged from the carriage, Henry holding his arm out to Grace as she exited the carriage. She took his arm as they approached the entrance of the cathedral. He was shaking, though he wouldn't admit that to Grace. She remained silent, staring up at his face as she watched a guilty expression cross his features. He still thought himself responsible for Catherine's death, even though it was revealed that she had a black tumor growing within her. Grace was relieved that the king felt somewhat responsible for his treatment towards her, but he had no part in her death. She just hoped he regained his senses enough to realize that.

They walked slowly into the cathedral, spotting Mary kneeling at the front. A long, black veil covered her body as she bowed her head in mourning. Quietly, Grace and Henry made their way towards Mary, kneeling alongside her in prayer. Henry kneeled between the women, Mary turning to her father in surprise. She had not expected him to be there, she had not expected him to care that her mother was dead. But, she was wrong. Here, the King of England knelt before her, reaching for her hand as they mourned together.

 **A/N: Comments?**


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